The Ghost Hunters
by Doug4
Summary: Sam comes across a trio of real ghost hunting sisters and the spooks that haunt them.
1. Chapter 1

**_Stars And Bars Forever_**

by: Doug4

**PROLOGUE **

Zapping through time and space Dr. Samuel Beckett's life force searched out, found and replaced the life force of his next host. Whether through fate or design, he was always ever vigilant to help out the next lost soul, which was EXACTLY what he had as a client this time around.

Reclaiming his senses, Sam saw nothing but several flashes of light darting through the darkness. In the darkness he was walking, walking, walking and then suddenly, "Wham!" His foot hit something low and hard causing him to fall down making a loud crash. At least two muffled hushes could be heard as the next flash of light turned into a flashlight that shined directly in Sam's face.

"Hey, Stony old buddy. What happened?" asked a young woman sounding genuinely concerned about Sam.

"OK. Nothing broken. Just couldn't see that," Sam started to say while feeling around in the dark. "End table. Just a little confused that's all." Sam used the table to pull himself to a standing position afraid to move from that spot.

"Hush. I'm trying to pick up some vibrations. There's definitely something in here. Motion definitely. Movement. I sense.. um.. bewilderment. Yes, no doubt about it. He's in this room. No, he just left. Darn. I don't know which way he went," said a second female voice.

"Who's been here?" asked Sam who had not moved from his safe spot.

"Stony, how hard did you hit that floor there? Why your ghost, of course!" the first woman replied cheerfully.

Sam swung around in the darkness in the direction of the last voice. "MY ghost? Oh, boooooooo."

**PART ONE**

_In my many paths winding through the maze of lives and leaps I have come across actual or perceived otherworldly apparitions. Stumbling around a dark room the idea of my own personal haunter was very, very unsettling. My feet planted themselves in my current location and would not let me move one inch. _

"Darn it," the second woman said. "Lost him entirely." She stamped her foot.

"Easy, CeCe. I got several pictures just before you lost him. If I'm right, we'll have him at least on film," yet another voice said from the far side of the room.

"And if we can find him, we can ID him and then, maybe, we can exorcise him. And Stony my friend your haunted days will be over. We'll send him packing on the first train out of town. I hope," the first voice said under her breath.

"Yea, that's all for tonight. I am exhausted," CeCe said apparently joining the other two over by Sam.

"You want to come with us? I'm starved and want to try some of that old fashioned Southern cooking. Any restaurants in town you recommend, Stony?" asked the first woman.

Sam shrugged in the darkness and claimed ignorance. "Usually eat at home myself. I think I better get back home."

"You're kidding? This IS your place," said the first woman as the lights came back on. Sam was standing the parlor of a very elegant old home somewhere in the South, he deduced by the portrait of General Robert E. Lee in full Confederate uniform over the fireplace. Lots of fuzzy blue wallpaper covered the walls and antiques were spread around the room. "You sure you're all right, Stony?" the first woman said putting her hand on his head. She was beautiful and had long dark hair. Her delicate touch had the feeling of a well-trained nurse. The one that seemed to be feeling the room for vibrations named CeCe had lighter brown hair and the most delicious blue eyes. The third one with the camera was equally beautiful. She had short dark hair and the most elegant manner and pose.

"I could use a bite myself," the third woman said.

"Interesting camera," said Sam looking at the extra large instrument.

"Infrared. Great for picking up vanishing people and lost souls as the one that passed through here. CeCe, Cyfer, pack everything up for tonight. Dinner, sleep and then I'll have the photographs for us before noon. We'll be back here tomorrow night at dusk. OK with you, Mr. Clements? You're the boss," she said smiling with a slight twinkle in her eye.

"Sure. Tomorrow," said Sam scratching the back of his head. The familiar sound of the Imaging Chamber door was very comforting in this unfamiliar and unsettling situation. In walked Al Calavicci in a formal lightning-blue tuxedo.

"Night, Stony," said CeCe waving to Sam demurely.

"Hopefully that will take care of this spook. Night," said Cyfer giving a passing wave.

"Same here. Good night, Mr. Clements," waved the third woman as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder.

Sam waved half-heartily and turned to his friend and project Observer.

"Boy, you sure have three delicious damsels there! Too bad I'm a hologram. I sure would like to join your party. Wow! Hi, Sam. Ain't this place early Scarlet O'Hara? Reminds me of the old Juniper mansion down near Montgomery," said Al twirling his cigar enjoying the female scenery.

"So does that make me Rhett Butler? What am I doing here?" asked Sam pointing down to the floor. Turning to the hall mirror Sam saw a late twenties southern gentleman dressed in a white linen suit. He had blue eyes, sandy blonde hair and a deep dimple in his chin.

"Try 'Wha am ay doa-hin har?'. He-he. OK, and to answer your kwa-SHUN, you, SUH are Mister Thomas Jackson Clements or Stony to his friends. You do remember Stonewall Jackson, Sam?" asked Al looking closely at Sam.

"Yes, yes. I get the connection. The Civil War general just like Robert T. Lee over there," said Sam pointing to the portrait over the mantelpiece.

"Jeeze! Robert E. Lee. Sam Beckett: Find his brain next to the Muenster in the dairy case next to the other Nobel Prize winning Swiss cheeses," said Al jokingly. "It's a good thing I'm around. TO CONTINUE," emphasized Al reading from his brightly colored hand link. "Stony owns this mansion called Pemberton Oaks," said Al pointing to the room with his ever-present cigar. "It's been in his family since the mid-nineteenth century. He rents rooms for visitors here in Vicksburg, Mississippi as kind of a mid-twentieth century bed and breakfast. The date is the 30th of October in 1962. The whole Civil War Centennial craze is going on right now."

"Looks pretty deserted to me," said Sam folding up his arms in disbelief.

"Like a church on Wednesday. And that's because of all these strange things that have been going on scaring the guests. Let's see. Nothing more than noises and a few things missing or flying objects. Probably just mass hysteria. These old houses are held together by nothing but creaks and groans. Old beams shifting, earth settling, wind whistling through cracks in the walls and the roof. Great ghost story fodder," scoffed Al as he went back to his hand link. Sam didn't miss the nervous glance his Observer threw over his shoulder. "If you believe in that sort of stuff, that is."

Sam suppressed a grin. From vampires to UFOs, Sam had come across a lot of strange occurrences on his leaps. They were mostly vague memories to him, but he did recall the unease of his Observer in those situations. "There's no such thing as ghosts, Al."

"Right. OK." The garish hologram turned his attention back to the handlink. "Because the mansion is empty, our friendly proprietor hired these three luscious ladies to look for the cause and stop the problem. Miss Susan, Eunice and Felicity Wells of Chicago. They, believe it or not, run a ghost-hunting agency. Wells Investigations. Nice generic name. They have had a lot of supposed success.

"Tomorrow night, which is Halloween, Eunice and Susan get killed while standing on the porch at the back of the house. The whole balcony collapses. Ziggy gives you a seventy-three percent chance that you're here to save them. Pretty routine stuff; just don't let them go out on that balcony tomorrow night. Distract them anyway you can. Run around in a sheet if you have to. Just don't let them go out there," said Al with quite a bit of gusto before going back to his stogie.

"Sounds straight forward enough," yawned Sam as he looked around for the bedrooms. "Meanwhile, I'm heading to bed."

"Good idea. Upstairs and to the right. I'll go look in on the Wells sisters and see if they are really that well," leered Al as he started to punch his hand link to center himself on the second location.

"Al! They're fine for now. I promise to stop by and look in on them in the morning. Leave them alone. Sleep tight. Now that's what's I need. Sleep," said Sam almost unintelligibly as he headed for the stairs.

"You and the McGuire sisters. You get all the breaks," mumbled Al. "I'll have Ziggy will run a check on this creepy old mansion. Jeeze. Night, Sam," waved Al as he opened up the Imaging Chamber door and disappeared from view.

"Good night, Al," Sam said to the closing door.

**Vicksburg, MS **

**October 31, 1962 **

Mid-morning arrived quickly the next day for the Wells sisters who were deep into the business of their business. At least two of them were hard at work in the suite at the Holiday Inn.

"I still think he was some interest in me, Cyfer," said CeCe as she put the final touches on her immaculate nails. "Did you ever see such a little lost puppy dog expression? He is so darn cute. And the way he gets so nervous around me."

"Probably just some delayed reaction to your revelations about his spiritual guest," replied Cyfer who was busily entering figures into an oversize ledger. "Always takes them a while to come around. You don't usually find our kind of business in the linen section of Woolworth's."

"But if anyone can get his attention, it'll be me," she giggled putting the last bit of the pink on her nails.

"Hey, sisters. I think we have GOT HIM," cried Sue from the bathroom that had been converted to a darkroom.

"Him? Like is this definitely some guy?" asked Cyfer sounding intrigued as she closed up her ledger.

Sue ran in holding a wet print with a clothespin and looking very proud of herself. "Ta-da!"

The picture was a black and white infrared photograph that showed scratchy versions of the furniture and fireplace in the parlor. One very bright figure was the heat radiated by CeCe and a much cooler, though very distinct, figure stood near her. The faint figure was almost six foot tall and wore the uniform of a southern Civil War era soldier, a goatee and a saddlebag slung over his shoulder.

"Great guns! Never saw such a clear shot of one of our spirits before," said Cyfer. "Usually they're just shadowy figures! Shouldn't take any time to identify HIM!" Cyfer was very impressed by the otherworldly camera work of her older sister.

Sue shook her head. "May I remind you that we are in the middle of a major Civil War battleground? Vicksburg was under siege for months! Over 9,000 casualties occurred in the Army of Vicksburg alone."

"I know, but this is so exciting. If we could just really help Stony and then document our work, we can finally get a little recognition," said CeCe. She took the photo and carefully studied the picture and the stature of the man.

"Forget it. We'll never get off the pages of the supermarket tabloids. National Geographic is not going to be knocking on our door," quipped Cyfer. "And if we can't wrap this one up in a few days, we might as well pack it in and go back to that little electronics firm in Skokie." Keeping Wells Investigations above water was Cyfer's major job and burden.

"No, I'm not going back to the secretarial pool! At least you guys had some marketable skills. Here the work's exciting and dangerous and we have a chance to really help people out," replied CeCe looking quite determined.

"Agreed. We're sort of a supernatural Peace Corps, though the real one might be a good alternative," said Sue as she snatched the picture away from CeCe. "Not dry yet!" she told CeCe wriggling her nose a bit at her.

"She still thinks she's Albert Einstein," CeCe whispered leaning over to Cyfer.

From the bathroom Sue yelled, "I HEARD that!"

"CeCe please. Besides I think you mean Alfred Eisenstein. Let's not quarrel. We all have to stay together to keep this little comedy running for as long as we can. I mean, we seem to enjoy the work. And we all like following in our Father's footsteps," said Cyfer trying to settle her sisters down. For twenty-three years Cyfer always seemed to be in the middle.

"And we've taken it several more steps than he had just wandering through old haunted houses and writing that little column for the Midwestern Newspaper Syndicate," said CeCe toying with Cyfer's ledger.

"Stop it!" cried Cyfer playfully swatting at her sister. "Sit and stay! Remember that 'little column' kept us afloat and put the three of us through college after mom died, CeCe."

"No history lesson needed for me. Though let me remind you how dad died! Going after a story and falling into the basement in that old haunted house in Dixon, Illinois? God, I miss him!" sighed CeCe. Her voice cracked with emotion.

Cyfer put her arm around her sister. "Yea, I know. We all miss him. And we're going to have to be much more careful than he was. I don't intend on having Friendly Lunatic on my tombstone anytime soon. Each of us has a talent that contributes to our little firm and if we stick together then we'll be fine. So let's help out . . . and speak of the devil!"

"I thought you ladies were into ghosts," said Sam as he walked through their open door dressed in a typical Southern white suit and open white shirt.

"You never know with us! We try and send them on to heaven, but who knows where they actually go," said Cyfer. "Hi, Stony. What brings you to our out-of-town office?" She really appreciated the distraction after two solid hours of accounting ledgers.

"Curiosity," explained Sam as he leaned back on the old well-worn hotel dresser.

"Careful, remember what that did to the cat," CeCe purred as she cozied up to him. "Hi. How you doing ther-r-r-r-r-r-r-re, Stony? You remind me a lot of Cary Granite, Stony."

Sam smiled nervously trying to back up with no place to go. "Stony? Granite? I get you."

"So where did you get such an interesting name, Stony?" asked CeCe while she ran her finger up and down his arm.

"Yea, just an Ed Sullivan fan?" asked Cyfer who was trying not to giggle at her sister's overactive attention to their client. Mr. Sullivan had often been referred to as 'The great stone face.'

"Nope. Stonewall Jackson. My folks were very fond of Civil War generals. Stony for short, ha-ha," Sam laughed nervously as she ran her hand down his side. Sam retreated to the far corner of the room.

"I saw. I could swear the eyes in that old picture of Robert E. Lee were following me around the room. Creepy, eee-uu," said Cyfer looking a little queasy in the stomach.

"Doesn't sound like a good trait if you're chasing lost souls walking the earth," said Sam who got a little chill from the same thought.

"Just as long as it doesn't turn into Night of the Living Dead, I can handle it," replied Cyfer who still seemed to be shivering a bit herself having never gotten over her childhood fear of things that go bump in the night.

"Oh, speaking of names. How did you get yours, Cyfer?" asked Sam trying to change the subject as CeCe sat down very close to him.

"Um, oh. My name? Just a knack for mathematics or 'ciphering' as my father used to call it. Also, a dislike for the name Eunice. Cyfer fits me fine. My little extra forward sister over there is really FE-LIS-I-TEE," remarked Cyfer spelling out each syllable.

"And you know CeCe is Spanish for yes, yes!" said CeCe playing with Sam ear while he tried to scoot away.

"CECE!" yelled Sue as she exited the darkroom. "Leave our client alone! He's about to rocket into orbit. Please sit down, Mr. Clements," said Sue offering him a comfortable chair far from her sister. "I'd like to show you a couple of pictures. Do you recognize this individual? Friend, relative, legend? He appears to be the spiritualistic resident in your house."

Sam felt his jaw drop at the image. "That's amazing! Definitely circa 1860. Look at that intense stare in his eyes. Is this picture typical of your work?" asked Sam who was fascinated. This apparition was clearly a Southern gentleman of the previous century.

"I have to admit this is the best ghost picture I've ever taken." She looked at the image over his shoulder. "Kind of a cross between John Carradine and John Barrymore. We need to redouble our efforts tonight," said Sue who was the most anxious of her sisters to get back on the trail.

"That's partly what I wanted to talk to you about. Tonight really wouldn't be good to look for the dead. It's Halloween. There will be a lot of distractions and who knows what else going on. It's such a busy time of year. Why don't I take you out and really show you Vicksburg tonight?" said Sam sounding like a tour guide at the Vicksburg National Battlefield.

"Absolutely not! Sneaking around creepy old houses on All Hallow's Eve is what we live for! Just like Santa and the chimney thing on Christmas Eve. It's in our blood." Cyfer tried to sound upbeat though she personally didn't really like adding the extra Halloween ingredient to their ghost chase.

"And if things get me too scared I have you to protect me, Stony," purred CeCe looking at him with her best bedroom eyes.

Sue threw a poisoned look toward CeCe. "Mr. Clements. Are you having second thoughts? I realize there is a great deal of skepticism and debate about the soundness of our work and methods. I assure you we are quite above board and legitimate," said Sue squinting toward Sam. She was determined to solve this case and keep their private enterprise solvent.

"I don't doubt it. It's just tonight," Sam tried to explain.

Cyfer interrupted him. "Stony. We have other clients and though our results aren't always on a timetable we want to solve your case as fast as possible. We didn't really come down where to see the sights."

"Though we do like the sights we are seeing. And if you want to show me around, it's still quite early," added CeCe in a husky voice.

Cyfer found her sister's lack of attention her worst quality and her own worst enemy. "Yep. You're right about THAT CeCe. The library's open and so is the Warren County archives. You and I have some books to hit and old dusty documents to search through. So unless you want to be typing some one else's letters CeCe, I suggest…"

"Yea, yea. I'm coming." She dropped Sam's arm. "See you around, Stony," she said, waving very demurely with a sweet smile on her lips. She was determined not to let this Southern gentleman get away.

"Yea, bye," waved Sam. "Good hunting. So you're really optimistic?" asked Sam to Sue. "About solving this thing?"

"Absolutely. This image is clear enough that if we can find him in an old daguerreotype we can look into his life story, how he died and what might prompted him to continue to walk the earth," said Sue as she headed back to the bathroom with Sam close behind her. "This could be a pivotal case for us. No real academicians want to touch our work."

"Have you had any success? Any good ghost stories?" asked Sam smiling just a bit.

"Several," said Sue who was very happy to discuss their work with any interested parties. "We found six different times an apparition that needed help from this side to move on to the next world. Sometimes they just need to be convinced that their work on earth is done and that they could head for heaven. Three cases were not really ghosts. Just humans using ghosts as an excuse for their own personal gain. Twice we couldn't get rid of the ghost at all and with the help of a little Caribbean Voo Doo we vanquished them and sent them into the netherworld."

"Voo Doo?" asked Sam laughing a bit. These lovely women were constantly full of surprises.

"Mr. Clements. We have an open mind and will do whatever it takes to help our clients. Let me reassure you that there are ghosts and afterlives. We don't fool around with other parts of Voo Doo and devil worship. We only use incantations that we understand. If it helps our clients, then we will use it," said Sue in a very slow and methodic voice. She found that if she showed faith and determination when discussing their work, it would put their clients at ease.

"Well, your talents obviously cover a wide variety. I'm sure I'm in good hands," smiled Sam. Even if he didn't truly believe everything they said, he felt that there was some truth in the work they were doing.

"Great! I do appreciate the vote of confidence, Mr. Clements." Sue started to put away her photography chemicals and vats feeling much better about the obviously skeptical Mr. Clements.

"You look pretty will equipped here," said Sam perusing the makeshift photography lab.

"Oh, we try."

"You just don't seem too high tech." Sam winced when he realized his blunder.

"High tech?"

"You know. Real electronic gadgetry. Measuring electromagnetic emissions, magnetic distortions, motion sensors, ultraviolet radiation, multi-wavelength spectral analysis and the like." Sam spoke rapidly as he named equipment that may or may not exist in 1962.

Sue stared at him for a moment. "Sounds fascinating, though I don't know all what you're talking about. Sounds more like what you'd do in a laboratory try. Fieldwork is a whole different environment. We do check changes in temperature and humidity and sometimes the changes in amperage and voltage." She found this young innkeeper full of contradictions and laughed lightly.

"Well, you're the expert, I'm just shooting from the hip. I guess I'd better go," said the good doctor pointing to the door. He could tell that they would be safe for the remainder of the daylight hours.

"OK. Six tonight, all right?" asked Sue raising one eyebrow and her opinion of CeCe's latest interest.

"Great. Good-bye." Sam left realizing that he would have to save these women from their own curiosity.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO **

Sam walked in the mansion just as Al walked through the bright white rectangle that represented the Imaging Chamber door. The hologram was dressed in a dark gray luminous suit and wearing a Confederate general's hat.

"Planning on joining up? We already did the Civil War." Sam had to turn away to keep from laughing.

"Oh this? Tina plopped it on my head as I entered the Imaging Chamber. Seems her boyfriend is one of those guys that likes to throw way the whole twenty-first century and play soldier for the weekend. She thought it was cute. If I had to pretend I'd prefer to spend a weekend with that cute little blue eyed CeCe." He grinned evilly. "Has she got the hots for you or what?"

"Thanks Al. I don't think I'm going to pursue anybody in lieu of the absent Mr. Clements." Sam crossed his arms and tapped his foot "Do you have anything that will actually HELP me?"

"Let's see here," said Al humming "Dixie" while he punched away on his magical hand link. "Well as of now the two lovely ladies still die on that balcony tonight at 8:30 P.M. CeCe quits the ghost-chasing racket and goes into real estate. There are a lot of other things she could try to get into, too, preferably something in latex if you ask me." He read on and clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Eventually she dies of a heroin overdose in 1968. What a waste! As for the haunted Mr. Clements, he figures that the house is jinxed and sells it. Moves to New Orleans where he starts a touring company that specializes in the haunted mansions of Louisiana. Interesting, but nothing tragic."

"That's the future?" He sounded appalled. "What makes them do this, anyway? How did they get started in the ghost hunting business, anyway?" asked Sam who was still trying to put all the pieces together.

"Huey, Dewy and Louie? They've been doing this for four years apparently making a marginal living. Customers seem to have been satisfied. A couple of their adventures include finding some puny ghosts. Puny ghosts?" Al tapped his hand link a couple of times to clear the screen. "Make that phony ghosts. No surprise there. Outside their business they appear to be outstanding citizens. Not one of their clients seems to have been bilked or hoodwinked out of any massive amount of moolah. Their fees aren't cheap, but they won't send anyone to the poorhouse, either."

"They certainly believe in what they are doing. Well, tonight I'll just have to keep an eye on them and keep them off that balcony." Sam snapped his fingers. "Wait a second." Sam ran outside, around back and under the balcony. He picked up a log and started pounding on of the main supports. The log splintered after several swings. Then he hit the balcony floor above his head and heard very solid sounding thuds.

"Sounds good. What could have caused it? This is not a rickety old antique. Any other ideas, Al?" asked Sam who looked a bit discouraged.

Al posed the question to the parallel, hybrid computer.

"Of course." Ziggy sounded miffed.

Al waited a few seconds, and then glared at the ceiling. "Well?"

"Ghosts, of course," snapped the computer in a sarcastic tone.

"Ghosts?!" Al repeated in exasperation. "And that's the best answer that a quarter trillion dollar hybrid computer can give?"

Sam smirked at the half of the exchange he could hear.

"You asked for any solution not my own considered opinion based upon assigned probabilities. Eliminating all the other probabilities the final answer no matter how improbable has to be the solution," Ziggy retorted smugly.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock!" Al replied very sarcastically.

"Sherlock Holmes, if you please," replied Ziggy.

"All right. I'm leaving. I'm developing a headache," Al punched the hand link very hard, the bright rectangle appeared. "Sorry, Sam!"

"Well, I guess I'll just have to keep them inside. Tell me if you find anything new, OK?"

Al nodded. "Sure thing," and stepped though the door rubbing his temples.

Sam was alone for only a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. He pulled the massive oak door open and was welcomed by the sisters in question. "Hey there, ladies. Thought I'd send out for some food tonight. Care for some good old Southern cooking?" asked Sam brightly.

"Why sho nuf, sugar," said CeCe looking a little nasty at him. "My, my. I like what I see!"

"Great. Thank you, Mr. Clements. That's very thoughtful of you," said Sue carrying in a load of equipment. Sam helped her set it down and showed her to the dining room.

"My isn't that nice. Thank you, Stony. I didn't have any lunch after all that work in the library. Do you know how many soldiers there were in Mississippi during the Civil War? I think I searched through the records of about one hundred and fifty thousand of them. Whew!" Cyfer plopped down on a chair.

"You've been working so hard. I just wanted to get a good meal in you tonight and kind of wish you a Happy Halloween, too," explained Sam. Actually he wanted to keep them downstairs until after 8:30 to forestall their accident.

"You're looking at the original grab-a-bite eaters. Diners, greasy spoon cafes, Chinese takeout and that new fangled McDonald's place. Anything homemade will taste great," said Cyfer as she pulled her chair up to the table.

"Actually I had this sent in from the Mud Hole. There's not

much food in the house," apologized Sam. "Dig in!"

"Absolutely!" said Sue as she reached for the salads.

"My this looks so delicious. I don't know where to start," replied CeCe as she tucked in her napkin and reached for the vegetables.

Cyfer saw Sam not eating. "Stony, don't wait for us. Join in!"

"I kinda picked earlier. Maybe a beer. Did you find anything definite this afternoon?"

"Several candidates. People that lived or served in this area. Of course if he was just traveling through we'll have a harder time tracking him down. Casualty reports are fairly good unless he died somewhere and was never found," said Cyfer. "I concentrated on the battles that occurred in Vicksburg and the surrounding counties. The Daughters of the Confederacy must have labeled every fistfight in the South a skirmish. There were hundreds of them!"

"Amazing the number of pictures we found. Any tall good-looking guy with a goatee we book marked. There are fourteen possibilities. A lot of Mississippians died during the siege," said CeCe nibbling on a chicken wing. "Not that many when you only look for officers."

"I sketched out our fuzzy apparition and made a more detailed sketch. And.. Oh my lord!" cried Sue standing up looking very surprised. "That painting!" she said pointing nervously. "Look at his face!"

Sam turned around. There hung a full head and shoulders portrait of the very haunter of the mansion. Underneath was a plaque that read, "Captain Gerald Maxwell Clements."

"How did you missed that connection?" asked Cyfer looking directly at Sam.

"Well, I . . . it just didn't look like that till I saw your sketch. Clements family history wasn't my strong suit," said Sam shrugging.

"He is the splitting image of your sketch, Sue! We've got our man, I mean ghost! Our ID phase is complete!" Cyfer threw down her napkin and stood up in triumph.

"Now let's see if we can find out more about this chap," said Sue looking quite proud of herself.

"I'll finish up this wing and then we can fly off to find him," said CeCe trying to finish up her meal. Eating was her second favorite sport. Pursuit was the first item on her Hit Parade.

After darkness had taken a hold of the mansion, the Wells sisters again flicked off the lights and turned on their sensors and optical equipment. Starting in the parlor again Sam watched them from the corner of the room staying clear of all hazards in the dark room.

"Nothing, nothing. I can't sense a thing. This is not working out!" CeCe ran her hands on the walls and over the tops of the furniture. Her senses were not too keen this Halloween night.

"Give it another two minutes and then we'll move to the stairwell. Ghosts often frequent halls and stairs," Cyfer told Sam.

"So I take it CeCe has extra sensory perception. ESP?' asked Sam trying to learn more about his charges.

"Sort of. She just has this affinity for ghosts. Knows when they're around, sometimes sees them and in the real rare occasion she actually can hear them. One of our grandmothers grew up on the island of Aruba. She was very interested in the Voo Doo rituals. It was said she'd talk to spirits every night. Our mother said nothing about it and one day when CeCe went with her father on a ghost hunting expedition she actually saw this apparition," explained Cyfer.

"Your father was a ghost hunter?" asked Sam crossing his arms in interest.

"Not really. He stuck mainly on the popular side of the subject. If he went off the deep end and started reporting their existence as real, the newspaper syndicate would have dropped him like last week's garbage. But with an asset like our sister there, viola! We were professionals very quickly," said Cyfer bringing Sam up to date.

"Taking any more infrared pictures?" Sam asked Sue.

"Maybe. But since it takes too long to develop them, they aren't real helpful until after CeCe finds him and keeps an eye on him," replied Sue who was trying desperately to divide her attention between CeCe and their client.

"Why don't you get some infrared goggles or a thermal imaging scope?" Sam glanced aside to the sound of the Imaging Chamber.

"Too early Sam. They'd need a crane to carry in that kind of equipment around," Al corrected.

"Infrared goggles? Sounds useful. Where can we get them?" asked Sue spinning around very intrigued by the possibilities.

"Oh, probably not for quite awhile," replied Sam trying to recover his fumble. He walked over to stand by his holographic buddy.

"According to Ziggy there is nothing weird going on in this room. Be careful Sam. History has not changed one bit and these two women still meet their end tonight," said a very solemn Al.

"That's enough. Let's move on CeCe," said Cyfer as she switched on a penlight and moved toward the stairs.

"You ladies go on," announced Sam.

"And you're going to stand here in the dark?" asked CeCe walking up to him humming just a bit as she shined her flashlight in his face.

Sam look perplexed and shrugged.

"Care for some company, Stony?" asked CeCe fluttering her gorgeous blue eyes at him.

"CeCe!" called out Cyfer angrily. "We need you over here!"

"All right. I'm coming! See you later, alligator!" said CeCe wriggling her nose up at him. "Grrrrrr!"

"Ya, later," coughed Sam.

"Sam that beautiful piece of womanhood wants you so bad. Can't you at least try and fulfill a minimum of my fantasies here?" asked Al who started to perspire. "The way she can gyrate those…"

"Al! No! I have got to keep this guy's life on target. Now tell me what you can find out about Stony's ancestor Gerald Maxwell Clements. They think that he was or is that ghost were looking for," suggested Sam who crossed her arms and looked very determined to keep the overheated Observer on the subject of the leap.

"All right. Ziggy patch me in with the info you have on a Gerald Maxwell Clements of Vicksburg Mississippi circa 1860. Check the state archives, Mississippi militia roles and the Vicksburg County and newspaper records. Notify me when the data is available," said Al calling into his hand link.

"Affirmative Admiral. I have all the available data," said Ziggy in a very coy voice.

"That was fast," said Al looking up startled.

Ziggy's tone was annoying arrogant. "I can scratch my head and pat my stomach, juggle a trillion facts and assist the personnel at Project Quantum Leap all at the same time. According to your raised body temperature I will lower the thermometer in the Imaging Chamber by three degrees centigrade," said Ziggy.

"Thank you, your highness," said Al sounding appreciative as the cool air passed over him.

"Or you could try a cold shower," zinged the computer in the same arrogant tone.

He scowled at the ceiling. "Just give me the information, you oversize electronic notebook."

Ziggy's voice sounded pleased. "Captain Clements was born on April 10th 1830, son of Joshua Clements and Abigail Franklin Clements. In Vicksburg Mississippi he joined the Mississippi militia in 1856 as a lieutenant and was promoted to Captain during the Battle of Pleasant Hill. Joined the staff of Lieutenant General John Pemberton to help defend Vicksburg in April 1863. Died June 30th 1863 in Vicksburg at his home during a Union artillery barrage. He was married to Martha Clare Goshen and had one son named Ashley Davis Clements, born April 25, 1859. His son married.."

"Thanks. That's enough," Al cut in. "Any theories on his supposed haunting reasons?"

"Negative. Insufficient data to draw conclusions," she replied sounding disappointed.

"That's it Sam. You better keep an eye on the Andrews Sisters. Read my lips. NO trips to the balcony! Check?" said Al quite defiantly.

"I'll go follow the girls," said Sam. "Don't forget me. I'm just as interested in Casper as you. If not more!" said Sam, calling out to the team.

"Shhh!" Cyfer said putting her finger to her lips. "CeCe feels something." She pointed to her sister's cautious and stealthy movements.

"He's been by the way within the last few minutes. I just know it. And it was in the direction of.. of.. UPSTAIRS!" exclaimed excitedly.

"I remembered something about Captain Gerald Clements. It was something my Uncle Zig-inski told me. He was a Captain stationed here during the siege and acted as an aide to General Pemberton. And he passed away in June 1863 right here in town. Does that help?" asked Sam standing there with his hands in his pockets trying to look very innocent.

"Anything does. And you just remembered all of this? I thought you said you weren't that interested in your family history. Interesting brain and the way you store things, Stony. Lots of odd bits of information from out of thin air," There was definitely something special, but something different about him, thought Cyfer. Her little sister could do a lot worse than this peculiar Southern gentleman.

"Well, that's me. Odd. Jack of all trades, master of none," shrugged Sam. His jumping around time and space had given him access to many bits of trivia and skills that did come in handy when he could remember them.

CeCe headed up the steps and to into the hallway. "Ah ha. Definitely he just came through here, heading down the hall. To the right. No to the left. No the right, um left?" CeCe didn't sound too sure of herself.

"Stop directing traffic up there and make up your mind!" yelled Sue. _She could be so dizzy sometimes_, she thought.

"Great. He doesn't know which way he's going!" quipped Cyfer. "If I were a ghost I'd go that way. More rooms to haunt."

"Right? Wrong! To the left!" announced CeCe, finally sounding definite.

"Follow our psuedo-bloodhound!" Cyfer pulled Sam behind her. "Steady Duke. Go flush out that rabbit.. um spirit."

Entering the guest room dubbed the 'Blue Room' CeCe ran her hands over the blue wildflower wallpaper and early Empire furniture. "Strong here. Very strong. Like he's behind me. No beside me. In front. Beside me. No behind m-m-m-me. Say, how do you nail down a spirit?" CeCe looked a little dizzy from her encounter.

"How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?" quipped Sam remembering something from somewhere.

"What was that, Stony?" asked Cyfer turning toward him.

"Uh…_Sound of Music?_ You know, the singing nuns?" replied Sam lightly.

"Oh. Haven't been to New York to see it. Haven't been anywhere but on business lately which is what we need to get back to," called Cyfer as she joined her sister in the Blue Room.

"Sam, this is getting very dangerous. The balcony is on this floor in the master bedroom. And according to Ziggy there's about ten minutes to go," warned Al consulting his colorful notepad.

"Say, how about a drink everyone? You're doing so well. I'll break out the glasses and we can all have a Halloween toast," announced Sam showing them the way to the stairs.

"What are your nuts? I mean, it's your money, but we're right on top of something." Cyfer looked as peeved as she sounded.

"There. Something definitely passed me. In that direction heading out the door," said CeCe. She walked slowly from the room waving her hands in front of her. "To the left down the hall. I'm sure of that now!"

"Right behind you," called out Sue with Cyfer in tow.

When they stepped into the Master bedroom everyone felt a definite chill and immediately stopped. Even Al shivered a bit at the strange reaction to the room.

"He's here. But things feel different. No more urging or wanting. More anger. This time he's everywhere. We're surrounded." CeCe had dropped her voice to near whisper.

Sue turned in a circle, clicking away with the camera to cover the whole room.

"When's the séance start, CeCe?" Cyfer's voice was tinged in apprehension.

"Now the presence is moving. Still quite large, but he's moving from this room and heading outside through that door," said CeCe pointing to the balcony entrance.

Al jumped in front of the balcony door and waved his arms fruitlessly. "Sam! Stop them!"

"Wait! It's not safe out there!" Sam shouted, waving his hands at them and moving to overlap his Observer. Sue, however, blocked his path and CeCe passed through the gyrating Observer to the balcony. When CeCe passed by, Sue joined her outside.

"Structurally sound from my stand point," said Sue stomping on the balcony floor and shortly joined by Cyfer.

"He's right here. Next to me now." CeCe spoke to the air around her. "Hello? Hello? Can we help you?" She paused. "I hear a moan. Wait a minute; he's definitely not happy. I can almost make out what he's saying!" cried CeCe.

Suddenly, the balcony began to move. It rocked back and forth slowly at first, then gained power. Sam shoved CeCe back inside as Cypher and Sue fought for balance on the balcony.

"Whoa. Help!" cried out Sue. Cyfer managed to grab Sam's hand as the earthquake-like disturbance continued. Sam had to brace himself against the doorway, then reached out and grabbed Sue's hand, too.

The balcony began to crumble beneath their feet.

With a Herculean effort, Sam hauled back and pulled both Sue and Cyfer into the bedroom, where the woman landed in a pile on top of Sam. Then the sound of snapping wood indicated the final demised of the balcony as it fell to the earth below.

"Judas Priest! Who or what caused that?" asked Cyfer as she helped Sue and Sam to their feet.

"It must have been him! The Captain! I kind of felt him all around out there and he was not a happy spirit," said CeCe shakily.

"What does he have against us?" asked Sam rubbing his aching back.

"Well, we were disturbing his realm. And we do want him to move on. That's probably enough to get him a little riled up." Sue sounded the least shook up of all of them.

"That's still incredible. Never had any apparition come after us before!" CeCe moved and stood close to her sister.

Cyfer took her trembling sister's hand. "Hey, we'll get through this."

CeCe looked a little more than scared this time. "Remember that spook we had in Boston?"

"He only tried to scare us. No one tried to do us in yet." Sue tried to comfort her sisters, but sounded determined to go on.

CeCe inched closer to the door and looked down on the remains of the broken balcony. No longer holding its normal shape, it now was a mess of broken planks and splintered wood. Some of the railing could still be made out on the top of the pile of rubble.

"My gosh, we could have ended up in the pile of junk!" She pulled back and frowned at Sam. "How did you know? You're a strange one Stony Clements." She moved to him with her head cocked curiously to one side. "You knew, didn't you?" When she stood in front of him she quietly said, "Thank you," and touched his shoulder.

Suddenly she had a vision of Stony arguing with a ghostly apparition.

"You all right?' asked Sam holding her shoulders as her face went blank.

She shook her head. "Yeah, I think so." A puzzled look crossed her face. "I Just saw another ghost. He seemed to prefer cigars." She put her hand on her head as if to stop it from spinning.

"Ah..where did you see that?" asked Sam nervously, throwing a glance at Al, who was now paying full attention.

"In that other room. The ghost I saw was giving you a warning of some kind. He was telling you about that balcony?" CeCe looked strangely at Sam.

"You're talking to spirits? Is that where you're getting your insights? You have your ears to the nether world? The afterlife?" Cyfer's questions peppered Sam, and Sue drew closer to him for a reasonable answer.

Sam felt trapped as Al also stepped toward him looking worried.

"I don't really know what you're talking about," Sam said nervously as he shifted his feet.

"Yeah, Sam. Please keep me out of this," said Al waving his hands in front of himself.

"Stony, please come clean. Is there something you're not telling us? You steered us away from that balcony before it collapsed." Cyfer was not going to let go.

Sue perked up, "You KNEW didn't you? Just like CeCe said?"

"Well. Oh boy!" said Sam looking up for guidance.

"Sam, not one word. The project, if your Swiss cheesed memory doesn't remember, is top, top secret. The past should not know about it!" Al warned.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but do you know more about this ghost than you are telling me? Are we in any danger?" Cyfer again.

"Come on, handsome. Confess," said CeCe giving him her best smile.

"No," said Sam.

"Good answer," said Al pounding on his surprisingly unlit cigar.

"No, you're not in danger now." Sam looked at Al for confirmation.

"Nothing new yet," said Al plugging away at his favorite instrument. "Wait. They are all alive and well that is the good news. The bad news is that you obviously haven't leaped yet."

"You're perfectly safe. And yes, from time to time I get flashes of insight. Always random. Nothing I can control." Sam shrugged innocently.

"So you're psychic like me? Wild," cooed CeCe. "What about the guy with the cigar?"

"No Sam. NO!" said Al waving his arms franticly.

"Well, I do remember something like that talking to me. But the trouble he's caused isn't always worth the advice he gives me!" said Sam looking directly at Al.

"Thank you, Mr. Sensitivity," retorted Al sarcastically.

"So what does your second sight tell you about me?" asked CeCe coyly. "When I touched you I did feel a very lonely person. One that has seen maybe places, many people. You've been through a lot of pain, but you seemed to have brought a lot of joy, Stony. You're a puzzle wrapped inside an enigma."

"You're very perceptive. I have gotten around a lot," gulped Sam. CeCe's insight was a little too close to home.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure you out, Mr. Clements and I will do that one way or another. I think I understand you and I sure would like you to know me as well," she said straight and plain this time. She kissed him on the cheek and walked away and this time did not look back.

Sam blushed as Cyfer threw a dirty look at CeCe and then turned and smiled Sam. _Something was definitely happening here_, she thought. "All right. We need to find out more about your great-grandfather. He has something on his other-worldly mind and we need to find it what it is." She pointed at her sister. "CeCe, you're going to have to locate him again."

"And let's try for some more photographs, too. Maybe we'll get the guy with the cigar!" Sue lugged her camera bag to her shoulder.

"And maybe win her a Pulitzer Prize, too," mumbled Cyfer under her breath.

Seeking out vibrations in the Master bedroom CeCe ran her hands around the room. Her mind still felt nothing. All the of the anger and bewilderment she had felt before was gone along with the chill they had all experienced.

"Two minutes," said Cyfer.

"Just a few more minutes. I don't think that he's far," said CeCe pleaded.

"CeCe, there's another dozen rooms to check out in this old house," she called back. "I don't want to be here till dawn."

"Wait a minute," said CeCe. "I really feel something now. He's over there by the window. Yes, definitely. I think he must have drifted back in."

Sue picked up her camera and started shooting.

"The chill is back, too." CeCe pulled her coat snugly around herself.

"It is getting little drafty in here." Cyfer agreed.

Sam became alarmed as the room temperature continued to drop.

"Ohh, Sam," Al said nervously, punching his plaything, "Ziggy reports a sudden change in the barometric reading. Down 3.7 centimeters!"

"No, now he's over there. Over by Stony!" She pointed directly at Sam who quickly looked around.

"Stay there," said Sue as she snapped away.

CeCe approached him with her hands stretched out. "This is getting more and more wild. Hello? Can you hear me? Can you talk to me, Captain Clements?" she called out toward Sam. "Whoa!" she said suddenly, jerking and falling back to the bed.

"You, OK?" Sam was instantly at her side and helped her up very gently.

"Sure. He just kind of spoke to me telepathically. It was a jolt, but I think I can take it. Captain Clements? Why are you here? Why are you here?" CeCe held her head firmly between her hands. Speaking to him appeared to be quite a strain. "Can you leave us and never return? Can you stop haunting this house?"

Sam, Cyfer and Sue looked on in fascination to the one sided conversation. Al shifted nervously and scanned the room with his eyes.

"No? You can't leave because you are what? Looking? Just looking. Looking for what, Captain Clements?" CeCe asked now looking worried "Looking. Yes, I know. That part you were clear on. You are trying to find something. What? What? What is it?" CeCe pressed harder on both sides of her head as the communication continued. Her eyes became shiny with tension, and Sam came over to help hold her up. She gave him a weak smile, and he gave her the courage to continue. "You need to find the kennel? No, the General's . . . the General's what?" CeCe's voice became louder, and she was practically shouting at him as if he as moving away.

"This is getting interesting. He was a General's aide," commented Cyfer. "You all right, CeCe?"

CeCe ignored her sister, but did lean more on Sam. "Hiding place. He needs to find a hiding place. The General trusted him. With what Captain? What did he trust you with? He was trying to find it and move it. He has to save it. Now he's moaning. Why? Because he died before he could do it. Do what?"

Sue turned to Sam. "This could be true. Spirits often wander the world if they have urgent unfinished business. Why in the Cathedral of Notre Dame there was a …"

"Shh!" said CeCe sharply. "Captain Clements! I'm still here! They will not disturb us any more. I am here to help you. What was it you were looking for? What was it? You can trust me. Yes? G-gold? You were entrusted to move the gold that was stored in Vicksburg. Who's gold? The Confederacy's? And you never did that? Never? That was the mission that he never finished." CeCe smiled through her obvious pain.

Both Sam and the two sisters gasped together.

"Why didn't you finish it? What? Oh, God. An artillery shell hit this house while he had stopped by to get something. He died here and his soul never left. That's why he had been haunting this house for the last century." Sorrow touched CeCe's voice.

"Sam," said Al as his fingers flew over the hand link. "Captain Clements really did die here. No, he was found dead in the family mansion, here on June 30th, 1863. No reports of any Southern gold around here, though. Jeeze! So much for the Scooby gang."

"If we can help him solve the mystery then his spirit can move on," said Cyfer quite seriously.

"Wait," said CeCe, still holding her head. "I'm asking. How do you know where to find the gold?" She hesitated, and then continued. "He's reaching into his saddlebag. He has a piece of paper wrapped in a ribbon . . . unrolling it. It's an order from General Pemberton. I can't read it. The image is too fuzzy."

"An order? Maybe they are in the archives?" asked Sue lighting up.

"That's a long shot, but I do seems to remember seeing some in the county archives." Cyfer's tone was hesitant, not quite willing to believe they could possibly be connected.

"Captain Clements," exclaimed CeCe. "We will look for it. I promise you."

And with that CeCe fainted on the bed.

"CECE! Wait, she just fainted. Let her rest. She's earned it. How hard can that be to find one order that mentions Captain Clements? Wait here with CeCe," said Sue. "Let's go Cyfer."

Sam stayed with CeCe, who slept soundly as she tightly hugged one of the pillows. Her hair and clothes were soaked with sweat. Whatever she had gone through, physically she had had a very rough experience. She shifted in her sleep, turned over ending right next to Sam. Reaching down he stroked her hair. She opened her eyes, recognized him and smiled. Sam returned with a big Sam Beckett grin that had melted many a girl's heart. CeCe reached up, put her arms around him and kissed him. Sam returned the kiss with pleasure. Somehow, somewhere this girl had touch something inside of Sam Beckett and it wouldn't let go. So there in the moonlight and under the magnolias he lay down with this wonderful lovely woman.

nt here...


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

Vicksburg, MS

November 1, 1962

The next day at the state archives in Baton Rouge Cyfer and Sue went though the all records the archivist had. Mainly old muster rolls and other bits and pieces that defined the life of the soldiers that defended the Confederate States of America

Piling through boxes of old musty records Cyfer looked quite cheerful. "I found a box full of General Pemberton's records. Things are looking up!" she exclaimed.

"Pay records, equipment lists… Ahh, general standing orders. This is good," said Sue pulling out the old smelly papers that had been sealed with red ribbon.

"Do you think he has copies of all of them?" asked Cyfer.

"If he's a good bureaucrat he has them. OK, take a pile and sort through them. Let me know if you find anything with the good Captain's name on it, Cyfer." Sue started sorting with a big grin on her face. Nothing suited her better than a mystery just waiting to be solved.

Searching through months of orders for a demoralized and yet dedicated army, they were getting a good lesson in how to run an insurrection, circa 1863. Food and ammunition were in short supply. The Union forces continually bombarded the town from the river and from the hills surrounding Vicksburg. Times were tough, but General Pemberton was showing that he was tougher.

"Lookee what we have here," cried out Sue waving piece of old yellowed paper in the air. "General Pemberton is telling his subordinates to move the gold reserves of the Mount Zion Bank of Vicksburg to the Confederate Army headquarters in southern Mississippi. But this order is going to some outfit that was not associated with the ghostly Captain. They were to move this stuff out without any delay and by any means possible to the get it though enemy lines," Sue read.

"Wait one southern fried minute. This is two weeks before the Captain died. This is significant since he was following up on a previous order. How were they going to move it though the Union lines?" Cyfer's forehead furrowed in thought.

"Let me think. I saw something earlier about that outfit. Here. On the south end of the Vicksburg near the Dreamy Pass. The Confederates were trying something incredible. Tunneling under the Union lines," said Sue. "Here is the order. I don't know whether the whole Army was going to try and escape that way or not, but it could be used to ship put the gold bullion."

"And that's the direction they wanted to move the gold. How else might they have done it?" asked Cyfer.

"Oh, flag of truce, medical emergency, phony uniforms, spy type deceptions," replied Sue. "Still that would be a heavy load to slip by with any stealth. The tunnel sounds like a pretty good idea."

"Keep digging." said Cyfer. "There has to be more to this puzzle!"

Working most of that day and approaching closing time, Cyfer was looking through the pile of the old pen and ink handwriting. Several times they found mention of Captain Clements, but not on the orders they were looking for. Finally she found the right order. "Bingo! Order directing Captain Clements to take charge of the bullion move. Seems the gold did get moved to the tunnel south of town. Good guess. We were right. It says that the gold bullion had been moved to the front too quickly and that it was hidden in an antechamber. The tunnel still needed to be completed. The General had entrusted him to finish the job. And he didn't."

"Viola, we have ID'd the trouble of this restless spirit and we have a good probable solution," said Sue with an excited twinkle in her eye.

"So we need to find 12 tons of gold, finish a tunnel started a hundred years ago and move it to an army camp that doesn't exist anymore?" Cyfer's eyes glazed with the thought.

"Simpler than that. We find the gold that he had been entrusted with and see if it's still there. And then find it's rightful owner," replied Sue cheerily.

"Wait, this gold belonged to a country that doesn't exist. I'm not up on my lost and found law, but who's land is it on might be a factor or it might belong to the US or Mississippi government. There certainly should be a finder's fee, I would think. Nine million dollars in gold at ten percent. Not a little amount," said Cyfer.

"Let's not count our chickens too early. Go ask the archivist to see some maps of the battlefield. He has got to know where that tunnels is." The excitement of the adventure filled Sue's quivering voice.

Wandering the ancient trenches in Vicksburg National Battlefield with a map copied from the archivist they found the opening they were looking for. Locked and sealed it still existed after a century of weather, wind and tourists.

"Dead end. Darn it." CeCe's disappointment was clear in her voice. She squeezed Sam's hand and got a reassuring smile from him in return.

"Not necessary. That old lock isn't that tough," said Sue as she pulled out a small tool set. "Stand by and watch out for me."

"Where did you learn that?" asked Cyfer looking a little worried at her sister with the not so law-abiding mind.

"Lots of talents I picked up when we started our little detective agency. Keep an eye on the trench for the authorities. A little to the left, to the right and eureka!" It partially opened by itself. She pulled on the ancient lock and removed it. The gate was rusty, but it did open a bit creaking loudly. "Who's first?"

CeCe grabbed a flashlight and peered into the darkness. It looked damp with roots growing through the ceiling and a floor littered with mud and decaying plant life. "It looks passable. The map says that its 700 yards long. No telling where the anteroom is."

"So keep your eyes open. We'll need all of us watching our fronts and backs," suggested Sue as she followed Sam and CeCe.

"Sure," said Sam who indicated to Al to watch from there.

"No problem, Sam. I'll keep the getaway car warmed up," quipped Al.

"Remember this could be twenty years in the federal pen for trespass and theft," said Cyfer who brought up the rear.

"Yeah, but it's one hell of a find, if it's there. And we can settle our ghost friend and finish our case," replied Sue. _And hopefully get paid! _was her second thought.

"Not a bad finish. Keep moving everyone." CeCe's voice was muffled from being in front.

For such an old manmade tunnel, it was in surprisingly good shape. The old clay walls had held up and the water was not too deep. Still the possibility of a cave-in did persist and Sam didn't think that either their ghostly friend or Al could help them out if that occurred.

"Nothing yet. Tunnel is straight as an arrow. We sure got around General Grant with this,"

CeCe called back to her sisters. "Stay close, Stony."

"I thought we had northern blood in us," called up sister Sue while watching the ceiling very carefully.

"Hey, after reading that archive junk for a couple of two days I'm ready to put on a hoop skirt and go to town to send the troops off to fight for the stars and bars," quipped Cyfer.

"And maybe accidentally bump into that handsome Captain Clements. He is so dreamy! And so is the rest of his family." CeCe squeezed Sam's hand. "Watch your step in that deep spot in the tunnel. I just stepped into the mucky water up to my knees. Wait! What have we here?" She found an opening partially covered in old wooden planks that were falling apart: The remains of a boarded up entrance.

Sam joined her and helped pull away the last boards. Some of them practically disintegrated in the damp tunnel. CeCe showed her flashlight into the hollowed out chamber and they saw several wooden boxes that must have been very heavy, as they had sunk deep into the dirt floor.

"I'm taking a good look," said CeCe as she started to climb in.

"Easy. That ceiling doesn't look too steady. Let me do it," said Sam. He carefully pulled himself halfway into the very small room. The ceiling was much lower and the dampness was much more apparent. Crawling to the first chest proved to be physically challenging and he huffed, puffed and then coughed due to the damp air. When he reached a box, he tried to pull it towards him and grunted with the effort. It didn't budge. With one more yank, the old wooden box fell apart and out popped two shiny gold bars.

Sam gasped at the find. "I found it. I ACTUALLY FOUND IT!" yelled Sam to the cheers of the three ladies.

"WHAT? You're kidding!" Al popped in next to him, his lower legs disappearing into the mud.

"We have.. um.. We have what looks like tons of gold in here. Several boxes full of it. Millions of dollars of Confederate gold!" Sam's heart was pounding.

"Grab a few of them. I hear someone coming," called Sue from the back of the line.

Al popped out of sight, but came right back. "She's right. Two Park Rangers with their .38 specials drawn."

"We'll pull you in. Hurry up!" CeCe and Cyfer each pulled a leg and dragged Sam through the wooden doorway. He hit his head on the boards as the ancient wooden crashed to splinters.

"Uff," cried Sam. He rubbed his head and gave each sister one bar of gold.

"Oh Stony. Are you OK?" CeCe cooed, rubbing the dirty spot on the back of his head.

"Yeah sure. Just watch out for those boards. They're harder than you expect. Ow, that smarts." CeCe moved closer to him.

The hollow footsteps echoing down the tunnel came closer. "Who's there?" someone called out in the darkness. "You are trespassing on government property!"

"Wait till you see what we found!" cried out an excited CeCe. Cyfer gave her a dirty look in the dull light.

Two Park Rangers in brown uniforms leaned into the low tunnel. "That lock was picked like a pro. Stealing artifacts from a government historical site is a serious federal crime. You could do some hard time."

"Well," popped up Sue. "We're doing some historical research searching through some old Confederate records. And our instincts were right. We came up with this," she said showing them a gold bar. "The lost treasury of the Confederacy!"

"Great lord o' mighty. That can't be. Pure gold?" he called out.

The second Park Ranger put down his gun and shook his head. "We always thought that was at best a legend and at worst a hoax."

"No hoax. It came from the old CS of A treasury. See the bank mark," she said shining a light on it.

"We're no grave robbers," piped in Cyfer trying to defend her sisters. "Just glad the law is here so we can help preserve it."

"No one is planning on stealing it even though we don't know who the rightful owners are," said Sam.

"And once it makes the papers I think a picked lock and a little trespassing will be over looked. Besides, this is one big historical find. There must be millions here," said Sue indicating the anteroom.

The Park Ranger thought for a moment "The gold belongs to the government. Maybe federal or maybe the state of Mississippi. Private individuals aren't allowed to have gold bullion."

Al added his own observations. "That's right Sam. The government didn't change that till 1972. After that the South African Kugoran made a big splash with American investors."

"Hey, let's back out of here. I'm starting to get a little bit claustrophobic," complained CeCe who was furthest up the tunnel.

"That's a good idea. We need to get some professionals in here to shore up the tunnels. Will you lassies please follow me out of here." The first Ranger move to the side of the tunnel to let them pass as the second Ranger took the lead.

"Right behind you," said a greatly relieved Cyfer. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed very far away.

Vicksburg, MS

November 2, 1962

"That judge was really quite nice. He let us go without any bail." CeCe held Sam closely .

"Um, we still have to go back for a hearing. I think we need a lawyer," said Sue as they walked out into the bright Mississippi sun in front of the Vicksburg Federal Courthouse.

"On our budget? Wait, maybe Stony can…" Cyfer looked up at Sam.

"Sure, I can help you ladies out. They never found us walking away with anything. I think we'll get by without spending anytime in jail," Sam reassured them with what Al had told him.

"Hey, we've been I tougher spots before. Breaking and entering is on of our specialties," giggled CeCe.

"Yeah, but never on federal property." Sue was a little more worried now.

"And it usually has been more associated with our cases. And speaking of that, let's go find Captain Clements again," said Cyfer all ready to wrap up their case. "There's still a little unfinished business to attend to."

"It's not too dark yet," said CeCe. "We still have time." She snuggled into Sam.

Cyfer and Sue noticed her extra attention and looked at each other and then to the sky.

Not long after dark at the Pemberton Manor CeCe went back into her act. "Who's there? Where are you? Whoa! It's like I'm intersecting him. This is real eerie and feels damp and yucky. Captain Clements? Sir?" She smiled at a vision only she could see. "Sir, we located the treasury gold. Yes, sir. The task that General Pemberton assigned you. No sir. We have not deceived you. No sir, this is not a trick. My friends and I found it in the same tunnel that you have been searching for, on the south end of town."

Al stepped into the room in the middle of the one sided conversation. "Oh. She's at it again I see," he commented sourly.

"Shh!" responded Sam.

"It was in the tunnel. No, it had not been finished. No sir, the enemy did not get it. I guarantee it. The gold will be handed over to the government. They found it. And it will be turned over to them. You have my word. The current government will get it. Sir, your search is over. You're relieved? I'm glad. Thank you, sir. I take that as a great compliment. He said I'm a true daughter of the stars and bars. Me. CeCe!" She blushed a bit.

Cyfer put her hand on her mouth. She was so proud of her little sister. "Ask him about the next place. Can he move on?"

"Right. Sir. Are your deeds now done? Can you move on to that great parade ground the sky? Really? No more work to do here. I'm so glad, Captain Clements. Peace be with you. Farewell. Hey, look at the great light!" exclaimed CeCe.

The entire room glowed in a pale white light as an indistinct figure stood before them for all to view and then seemed to walk away into the center of the light. Smaller and smaller he became as the bright light faded leaving the ghost hunters in darkness once again.

Al dropped his cigar. "I knew it! How can you say there's no such thing as ghosts now, Sam? Look at that!" he exclaimed, as Sam stood there just smiling. He turned to Al and just shrugged.

"Impressive," remarked Sue as she put her camera down having caught the entire sequence on film.

Cyfer just stood next to Sue, crying very happily for the deceased Captain. He had found his peace at last.

CeCe was also overcome with emotion. "And now he's off! Farewell, oh great soldier. Farewell. May your journey be without incident! Farewell brave soldier, son of the Confederacy!" called out CeCe waving to him.

"Kind of poetic there. No great quotes about fallen comrades in Flanders Field?" asked Cyfer with a quirky lilt in her voice.

"Past his time. That would be World War I. Besides I never talked to one like that before. I'm an old softie when it comes to moving on. And since he predated all of us I thought a more classic sendoff was in order. We all do it ourselves someday!" said CeCe still staring off into the distance.

"Well, don't hang around and haunt me," said Cyfer. "I want peace in my old age."

"And if you go first?" inquired CeCe playfully.

"Then watch out. I howl unmercifully through the night. And I always enjoy a good chain rattling," kidded Cyfer.

"Always knew you were part rattler," Sue said to her sister.

"Don't you dare," said Cyfer "Go look for some other place to haunt. I know how to kick your ghostly carcass into the next life."

"That's the spirit," quipped CeCe joining in the fun.

"Hey, ladies. Enough puns. At least it looks like you did your job!" Sam was just happy it was all over.

"No doubt about. Stony, the house is yours," announced Cyfer.

Sue turned around to Sam. "If you hear any more noises, Mr. Clements, call a carpenter. I herby declared this house spook free!"

"How do you know it's not coming back?" Sam asked her.

"Then give us a call. Satisfaction guaranteed," said a very confident Sue.

"Yes, very satisfied," cooed CeCe. "How about you, Mr. Granite? HMM?"

Standing there a little nervously, Sam turned to Al and said, "It all depends upon what the future holds."

Al answered a bit startled, "Oh, yeah. That's my cue. It's just all the weird special effects going on here. Let's see. All three sisters and Cary Granite are still alive. Their little ghost hunting enterprise broke up when CeCe went and married Stony Clements. Hmm. They both ran the mansion for a few years and eventually bought the old Dixie Hotel downtown and renovated it. Today it's the classiest place to stay in Vicksburg. No kids. Cyfer went on to become a romance novelist specializing in gothic settings, no surprise there. She married a Chicago commodities broker and had three kids. Sue went on to work got a job at LIFE magazine as a photographer. Never married but she did earn a Pulitzer for a picture she took during the evacuation of Saigon in 1975. Good for her! Ya shore done ya-self proud, Sammy boy," exclaimed Al looking a bit proud himself. By this time CeCe was kissing Sam very hard as Al was looking on quite amused. "And to think I never thought you had a ghost of a chance. Ha-ha. Say good-bye, suh."

And off Sam leaped to another place, another time and another adventure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Return to the Wells (Part 1)**

Wandering through the cosmos Sam Beckett felt life quickly ebb back into his body as he materialized in a new place, a new time and a new leapee. Warmth wrapped around him as he found himself sitting in front of a large mirror mounted on a makeup table. Sam's leaping through time had given him a better appreciation for female habits than your average male M.I.T. doctorate recipient. His hand finished a brush stroke through his now long ebony hair. In the mirror sat a twenty-two year-old woman with a pale ivory complexion, dark brown eyes, just a hint of a mole next to her mouth, and a funny turned-up lip when she smiled. Sam finished the stroke and stood up to look around the room. The entire room glowed pink, pinker than he had ever seen. His host's room included a pink bed covered by a filly bedspread, pink dresser, high school pictures, a multitude of cheerleader trophies and a pile of stuffed animals resting in the corner on a pink beanbag chair. In the opposite corner was a very pink desk with an old manual typewriter on it. Sam walked over and pushed down a few keys noting that it was ancient even compared to his surroundings. On the desk he saw a 1970 calendar flipped to the month of February. Outside it was dark, quiet and peaceful. Over the bed was a faded pennant from a touring ice skating show mounted next to a TroyCommunity College pennant.

As a bright white rectangle appeared near the closet in walked Al Calavicci wearing a dark tuxedo with a light blue shirt and shining electric blue tie clashing with the ultra-feminine room. After two puffs on his cigar, Al turned and waved to Sam. "Don't you look sweet, Sam."

"Al, I'm a girl again!" Sam complained in a whisper.

"That is quite correct there, Sam my boy!" Al said twice looking at his handlink and then pushing a couple of buttons as musical tones filled the room. "Miss Sage Frances Peterson, a twenty-two year old TroyCommunity College dropout who lives here in Otter Hook, New York with her parents. Ms. Peterson currently works at Sherlock Publishing over in Newburgh as a proofreader of romance novels. The date is March 12, 1970 and tomorrow nothing in particular happens to this charming girl. And quite a looker you are, my dear. Hmm. Nothing seems to happen to her friends and family over the next few days."

"Can Ziggy come up with any good suggestions as to what I'm doing here?" asked Sam as he sat down on the bed and picked up a huge stuffed Cindy Bear.

Al chomped down on his cigar. "Nada. Though she is working on it. She gives you a forty-seven percent probability of a forty-seven per cent solution within forty-seven hours," read off Al as he looked more and more confused. "Ziggy? What's with the number double-talk?"

A very calm almost sensual response came back, "I most apologize, Admiral. Professor Lofton is running a level three diagnostic through my calculation unit that won't be finished for forty-seven minutes. It's causing a feedback loop in the internal variances of forty-seven of my systems, which causes the forty-seven million lines of code to be forty-seven percent accurate forty-seven..."

Al shut off the sound and turned to Sam. "Computer problems. I'd say it's the electronic equivalent of a nervous breakdown, or maybe I'LL be the next one at the funny farm. Give us the night. You get some sleep, Ms. Peterson. We'll give you an answer in the morning. I hope!" he prayed up to the great train conductor whom moved Sam along the time express. "Sleep tight. See Yea, Sam!" he waved as he disappeared from Sam's world and reentered his own.

At the quirky little office in an old HudsonValley mansion, Sam sat behind his little desk with too much cute clutter surrounding him including fuzzy topped pencils, a large female ratfink and several Mattel Thingmaker dolls. Sam chitchatted with Sage's other reader friends for an hour until their boss came marching in and threw them a dirty look. Sam sighed, picked up the manuscript on the top of the pile and began to read.

"Satisfaction Guaranteed," read Sam as he looked at the title. The loose pages had already been marked up in the margins with a red pencil. As Sam picked his way through the book he read about lust and tequila in old Tijuana. Though the story would probably hold the interest of a bubbly teenager, Sam doubted much that the author, an AlbanyNew York resident, had ever left the state. Lost in the brothels of another era Sam was jostled back in reality by Sage's friend Lilly.

Lilly tapped her hard fingernails on the desk. "Hey, sleepy head. Your 10 o'clock appointment is here," she said pointing to the front door. Sam glanced down at his appointment calendar and saw the name Eunice Hettinger. Sam looked worried since he didn't see any notes or files that would prepare him for the meeting. In walked a short woman about thirty years old who had long flowing dark hair and dressed in a dark blue pants suit coming straight for him.

"Hey there, Sagebrush!" she said giving her a big sincere smile. "Looking a little down in the mouth? Have a pillow last night?" she asked smiling and cocking her head to one side. "Everything all right, Sage?"

Sam looked at her as she continued to smile and then she raised her forehead looking a bit worried. A mental image from some other time and leap came to Sam through his Swiss cheese memory. He quickly replied, "Cyfer! Oh boy!"

_Working my way around the cosmos after more years than I could remember given my leap induced amnesia, I do seem to recall running into some people more than once. A certain mentally challenged adult comes to mind. This time my mind was much clearer than usual as the woman before me was as I recall a paranormal expert I had encountered way down south. And now she has drastically changed professions and is quite friendly with my leapee host. It seemed appropriate that I had leaped into a literary proofreader, because again I was about to become involved in the book of her life. Chapter two._

"Cyfer. It's so good to see you!" Sam said breaking into a wide Beckett grin. "You don't know how wonderful it is to see a familiar face!"

Her smile only slightly disappeared as she looked at him sheepishly and then whispered. "Not in public! Please! Remember I'm writing as Fiona Feinstein! I don't want people to remember me for what I USED to do!"

Sam snapped his fingers. "Right! You were kinda like the Ghostbusters!"

Cyfer shook her head. "Who? That name doesn't mean anything to me though we did kick some celestial tooshes in our time. I don't want rumors going around that I'm reliving my old life. These are MY stories and not some past ghost story that my sisters came across in some old haunted house."

"Sure. What's up?" asked Sam sitting back in his chair.

Cyfer threw her hands up sounding thoroughly pissed. "Sage! You were supposed to have read _Ghool in the School_ and supplied me with your comments! Come on. I know you work for Sherlock Publishing, but I need to get this book out soon. Show some responsibility, Sage!"

"Absolutely," he said riffling through the files on his desk. "I'll get RIGHT onto it!" Sam said finding a folder with that title on it. "And here it is!" announced Sam. "It looks like you spelt the word

'ghoul' wrong!" Cyfer grabbed it. "That's a play on words, but maybe it's a bit too subtle. I'll fix it. Everything else OK?"

"Well. I guess I'll read through it this weekend and have it completed by Monday," said Sam reluctantly. He had to start from scratch if he really wanted to help Cyfer. He never knew whether that was the reason he had leaped into her proofreader.

"OK, Sage. But if you don't, your butt is in a sling and I'm going to play tether ball!" she said sarcastically.

She walked out and then turned around in a friendlier mood. "And don't forget our neighborhood cookout Sunday afternoon. It will be a blast, Sage!"

"Groovy!" replied Sam as he went back to a Nancy Drew type story that wasn't that far from Cyfer's former ghost evicting ways.

Pink light shining through a pink lampshade cascaded across Sam's lap as he sat on Sage's bed working through Cyfer's manuscript in the middle of Sage's pink fantasy world. Sipping a bottle of Tab through a straw Sam kept reading and occasionally made a red mark in the margin. Already halfway through the teenage story Sam found it a bit sophisticated for his own tastes in the early teenaged years. He found that Cyfer did not insult her young readers with simple language and one-dimensional characters. She was one hell of a writer. Sam started enjoying the book except with his high IQ he had figured out who the villain was by chapter eight. Determined to finish his only assigned task he put all of his Nobel Prize wining brain to the beta reading of _Ghool in the School._

Somewhere deep in chapter 10, Sam was distracted by a shaft of non-pink light as Al Calavicci walked in on him. Al had shifted to a more mundane black, but still sported a bright orange tie with matching cufflinks.

"Hello, Sam. How's the world of high pressure publishing?" he said glancing up at the general hue of the room and then sighing uncontrollably. He preferred his rooms in more earthy tones. "Doesn't look like she ever goes to work for Simon and Shyster," said Al reading his handlink.

"Shuster. That's Simon and Shuster, Al," replied Sam.

"You're now correcting moi!" said the ruffled Al.

Sam shook his head. "No, they called me up earlier about another author. This story of Cyfer's isn't too bad," he sighed while taking another sip from his cola.

"As yes. Miss Cyfer's eighth young adult story that is published and sells 154,000 copies over the next thirty years. Just like this copy!" exclaimed Al as he held up the final result. Two scared kids stood in front of an old house as some misty apparition floated in front of them. Cyfer had taken Sam's advice and changed the spelling of ghoul.

"And if you'll permit me, I can give you the final written copy that will make Sage look like the Joseph Pulitzer of her office. Every spelling error and punctuation mistake down to the last comma," explained Al writing his own comma in the air in front of him to make a point.

"Al, I'd rather do this myself," said Sam looking up and then down at his papers.

Al held up his hand. "Only trying to help you do the job that you leaped into. You have more important things to do on your leap than crossing the Tee's and dotting the Eye's, little Miss Rowling," he said again waving the book at him. "Believe it or not I got this copy off of my daughter Jackie's bookshelf."

"Fine, then. Maybe later. You say you have a reason for my leaping into Sage Peterson?" asked Sam slamming down the manuscript next to him.

Al checked out his handlink and shook his head. "Well, Ziggy still doesn't have a clue. Sage's life is quite peaceful, her colleagues at work don't have anything worse than a traffic ticket over the next month and all of her family and friends are alive and well even at this late date."

"And our little author friend?" asked Sam pointing to the unfinished manuscript that had slid across the bed in a less than neatly arranged pile.

"Cyfer is as you left her in your last encounter a medium successful author of children and young adult gothic romances and mysteries. She's no Stephen King, whom you have met, but she's no Daryl Morton either," replied Al taking a puff from his nearly completed Sierra Montago. "Who you haven't met."

"And who is that?" asked a confused Sam. "My memory fails me. Again."

Al plunked and tweaked his handlink to get some new tidbits of trivia. "He's a San Francisco stockbroker who just won the 2009 Worst Author of the Year award out in sunny California. Out of over 800 submissions his sank to the bottom of the Marianas Trench," read off Al. "Cyfer and her Wall Street commodities broker husband make a decent living. She's still writing, while he passed away in the 2002."

"That is all well and good, but what am I here to do? Ziggy has got to come up with some scenarios and assigned probabilities so I can fix whatever went wrong here!" Sam said while busily reshuffling his pile of papers.

"Just keep up your correcting. Care for some help?" asked Al waving the book at him again.

Sam shouted back adamantly. "No, Al! I have to be able to do that which I have been leaped into," insisted Sam. "Besides I think I owe my best efforts to Cyfer since she helped me in the past."

Al shrugged and then slipped the book in his jacket pocket. "Suit yourself. Though for your information you saved her pretty little butt from a rouge Confederate colonel. Don't forget Sunday afternoon. She owns an old mansion overlooking the Hudson just north of Poughkeepsie on River Road. House number 2766. Four o'clock sharp!" he said pointing to his flashy watch to remind his absent-minded friend.

Down a tree lined driveway atop a sunny knoll sat the majestic home of Stanley and Eunice Hettinger. Sam found a big square two story Federalist home with a widow's walk on top that gave one a view of the Hudson River envied by every artist and photographer in the county. Several cars had already parked in front as Sam pulled up and knocked on the door. Al stood behind him puffing away hoping for some distraction this fine Sunday afternoon.

Opening the door was a tall thirtyish rugged-looking man with sandy blonde hair and a dimple in his chin. He smiled as he looked down at the pretty girl that wasn't really standing there. Sam looked a bit uncomfortable at the attention his incorrect sex often received from men

"Good afternoon, ma dear," he said with an accent that could curdle grits. He opened the door wider, bowed slightly and ushered Sam inside.

Sam looked at him, "Hi, I'm Sage Peterson. Eunice invited me. I am her copyeditor."

"A pleasure and a privilege, mam. Stony Clements, her brother-in-law," he said taking his hand and escorting him in. "I've heard some very pleasant comments concerning how you have helped her in her work. May I get you some punch?"

"Maybe later," Sam said as a younger version of Cyfer joined them wearing a dark blue party dress.

"Oh, Sam. Mr. Clements here is one of your former leaping hosts. Stony Clements of Vicksburg, Miss-a-sappi, suh," whispered Al. "He was your leapee host who you used to help save two of the Wells sisters."

The other woman had the biggest infectious grin as she took Stony's arm from Sam and then looked first at him and then at Sam. "Hi, there! You MUST be Sage. Filly Clements. I'm this handsome guy's wife and sister to Cyfer, though she doesn't like that name. Still we all grew up that way. Sue, Cyfer and CeCe. That's us. The Wells sisters. She can't stop talking about you!"

Sam smiled as Filly or CeCe nuzzled Stony and then rested her head on his shoulder. "Right. Eunice has mentioned a lot about you too. And Sue?" asked Sam.

"Wonderful woman," injected Stony.

"Yep!" agreed CeCe slightly bobbing her head. "Our globe-trotting big sister. A world-class photographer who's now over in Africa covering the famine in Biafra. All those poor natives. Stony and I never really get out of our little bed-and-breakfast in Vicksburg. We haven't seen my sisters in what?" asked Filly turning to Stony.

"Three years, Filly," he said lovingly.

"And now, well, it had been too long. We figured we better come visit her here to see Stan, Cyfer and my nephews Stan Jr and Chris. And they're growing like weeds," CeCe who couldn't stop gushing over her nephews.

Cyfer literally floated in wearing a beige polyester pantsuit with her hair up on her head. "Ah, Sage. Thanks for coming. You met my littlest sister and her husband."

"Yep. We were catching up. I mean it's like we were old friends," admitted Sam.

"Not too old I hope. Now come on out and meet some of my neighbors. We have a pretty cozy neighborhood around here," she said taking Sam's hand.

After the barbequed soy burgers and bean spout dip, Sam looked around for something edible in this mid-hippie world. Not that Sam was a big redneck meat eater; you just don't grow up a vegetarian on a farm in Indiana.

"Want to help put the kids down?" asked Cyfer with a big smile. "We have got to get these little angels to bed. Come along, Aunties!" she said motioning with a crooked middle finger.

Sam could see that Cyfer had somewhat adopted Sage as a surrogate

sister to replace her far ranging siblings. He nodded and followed her and CeCe.

Up the antique staircase went the three women, which included Sam, followed by the two young boys. The ancient narrow steps went up to a second floor that included four bedrooms, one used as an office by her husband.

"I'll go give Chris his bath while you two get Stanley dressed, ladies. He knows where everything is. Come on, Christopher," she said humming to him. "Time for your bath!"

Sam and CeCe walked into a room with a high ceiling and a big window that overlooked the trees in the large backyard. The Hudson River could be seen through the trees reflecting the light of the almost full moon.

CeCe leaned out the window and sighed. "We grew up overlooking the crappy backyard of the townhouse behind us. My big sister has done herself proud!" said Filly pulling herself in and closing the drapes.

"You said that you grew up in Chicago?" asked Sam.

She nodded as she turned down Stanley's bedspread, "True, but half dozen years down south has sweetened my accent, just a bit ya all," teased Filly. "Just don't pick up a New York accent, Stanley. Now where are your jammies?" she asked her nephew.

Stanley jumped out of his aunt's arms, ran over to the dresser, pulled out a pair of jeans and a white tee shirt, held them up and smiled. "Here!"

"No, no, no. You're pulling a fooly on me.," she said smiling with that same infectious grin that caused Sam to join in. "Now where did you put those old jammies? Preferably something with some feet in it."

Stanley threw the clothes down and went to the bottom drawer. Inside was some red sleepwear with a picture of Yogi Bear and Booboo on them. Again he held them up proudly.

"Now that's more like it. Go run in the bathroom and change," ordered CeCe pointing to the door.

"Uh hum, Aunt TeCe!" Stanley nodded and he ran off.

CeCe put her hand up to her cheek remembering when she was that age. "Just adorable. I hope I have one just like him," CeCe said sighing.

"He is cute," agreed Sam who wondered if he had any of his own. He seemed to remember his sister Katie was as enthusiastic and full of energy at that age.

"Well, you'll have some just like it someday, Sage," said an optimistic CeCe. "You're still so young."

"I wouldn't bet on it," said Sam quietly to himself.

"You're gonna find your Steve McQueen," suggested CeCe as she finished turning down the bed.

Al checked his hand link. "Steve McQueen? Try Warren Beatty for this hot little Sage," suggested Al. "I've got my own grandson just about his age. Smart as a whip!" said the proud grandfather.

"I'll just wait till the right one comes along," Sam said as he heard a noise coming from the bathroom and then a loud scream from little Stanley.

She turned around quickly. "Stanley? What's wrong, sweetie?" asked a worried CeCe as she opened the bedroom door and ran down the hall to the bathroom.

Stanley was standing in one corner screaming as the antique bathtub rocked back and forth on its legs very slowly and very menacingly. A green mist hovered over the drain as the scent of death was in the air. A low shaking noise could be heard as if it were coming from the pipes up though the drain.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed CeCe as Sam ran over to Stanley and picked him up. CeCe leaned against the wall trying to catch her balance. The smell was making her a bit ill.

"It's OK, Stanley. We'll …ah …protect you," said Sam to calm the boy who had buried his face in CeCe's shoulder.

CeCe approached the green cloudy thing, ran her hand through it and jumped back as she got a big shock. "Yuck. Old mold. What are you?" she asked studying it rather than being afraid of it.

Cyfer ran in panting, "Back to the sewers, you green ugly aerosol, you!" she cried as she dug deep into her pocket, pulled out a handful of herbs and hurled it. They added to the unpleasant odor that filled the air.

"Sacem recter manus plexo!" she shouted as a purplish puff appeared around the tub and the green misty thing retreated down the bathtub drain.

"What in the name of Harry Potter was that!" cried out Al as he dropped his handlink and his cigar.

CeCe cocked her head to one side. "Madame Zora's hex as I recall. Right, Cypher?"

Cyfer pushed back her hair and then took Stanley. "Yep. The witchdoctress of Antigua. She never failed us before. It's OK, Stanley. The bad thing is all gone. Mommy won't let anything happen to you!"

Sam pointed at where IT had been. "What WAS that?"

"Damned if I know. Some uninvited spirit," said Cypher almost too casually.

A light went off over CeCe's head. "Spirit? After all of our cleansing work? Cyfer? Did you buy a haunted house?" she asked almost too cutely for words. Then she began to giggle followed by a short fit of laughter.

Cyfer frowned for a moment and then proceeded to chastise CeCe with the most pleasant features as not to scare her son. "I wish you wouldn't call it that. This is MY HOME. And the home of my family. And no green spirited smelly demon from hell is going to run me out!"

CeCe cocked her head to one side and then looked down at her sister. "OK. Is that why you had me here?"

She shook her head. "No! Absolutely not! Officially what you saw doesn't exist. And I don't want anyone to know about it. Anybody else!"

"But your fans!" replied CeCe.

"Don't you think I haven't thought about them? I shook the dirt from my feet with the last of the Wells Investigation cases. No more ghosts! I want a normal life. I don't even use my real name in those books! If some of my readers find out about this intruder I'll have no peace. Fiona Feinstein has her own ghost! The author with her own personal haunter. My life is going to be perfectly NORMAL!" she said as peeved as CeCe had ever seen.

Al interjected, "There doesn't seem to be any record of this problem. She must have never dealt with it. This could be the clue you were looking for Sam."

"It just seems dangerous to have a malicious spirit inhabiting your house," said Sam.

CeCe couldn't agree more. "Sage is right. That ghostly ghoul zapped me. Hey, Cyfer. I understand. I am just as happy with my ghost free life too. We have our little bed and breakfast and we're looking at a hotel downtown to restore. Not a bad life. You have a problem here, sis. And if we can help you out then who can?"

"Ziggy is starting to bump up the odds that this is your mission here. Forty-seven percent. Fifty-eight percent. Fifty-five and rising. Looks like you need to get rid of the Green Goblin," explained Al reading off his handlink.

Sam nodded. "We can help out. You have the experience and the know-how," he reminded her.

Cyfer put Stanley down and let him run into his room. "The answer is no. I don't want the Amazing Kreskin doing on the spot reports from my doorstep!"

"But sweetie. This is not a benign spirit, Cyfer. That was not static electricity that hit me!" CeCe reminded her. "And you have your children to consider."

"Yea, but that old hex pushes him back down into the plumbing. Three years I've been putting the old whammy on him," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "Works EVERY time!"

"You have a spooky drain?" asked Sam as he looked down at the slightly rusty drain cover.


	5. Chapter 5

"All those nightly noises aren't just the old pipes. Up and down all night he rattles his chains, so to speak," replied Cyfer. "How come you're not so spooked, Sage?"

"Well, I've seen a lot," replied Sam who had come across all kinds of supernatural occurrences both real and manufactured among his many leaps.

Cyfer looked at Sage and replied sweetly. "You're only a tender twenty-two."

Sam looked down and quickly retorted. "And I've READ a lot too. Lots of strange things happen in those gothic novels."

"Then you need to get out more! Your knowledge though is most impressive. I thought that you'd been reading mostly my stories. And they're only supposed to amuse the Brady Bunch group," exclaimed Cyfer.

"And enlighten those older than them," added Sam.

"Hey, don't go pushing me into the next generation! We're in the Pepsi generation here. Not our father's!" joked CeCe who never seemed to lose her youthful vigor.

"It is funny when you can remember being the age of your kids. That IS a new generation. Now forget about Sir Green of Plumbing. We have guests and I am going to tend to them," said Cyfer sternly. "After we put my little princes to bed. Coming ladies?"

"Sure. But what will you say about that foul odor?" asked Sam. He stepped out of the bathroom to escape the pungent smell.

"Swamp gas!" she quickly retorted.

"There isn't a swamp in thirty miles," said Al. Sam said the same thing to Cyfer.

"And I suppose you won the national geography bee, too?" she asked sounding peeved.

"Nope, just live around here," replied Sam.

"And you have a world of information from Ziggy the Wonder Horse," quipped Al.

"Neeiighhhh!" exclaimed Ziggy back through his multi-colored handlink as Al just looked up at the ceiling for some spiritual guidance.

"What about your guests? If you want to keep this quiet, then…" replied CeCe.

"Right! I see your point. The party is over. I have a FUNNY SMELL, but nothing serious!" said Cyfer. Cyfer was determined to keep her garlic eating apparition off the public's radar.

"Unless you call an otherworldly guest something serious," said CeCe under her breath. "WE CAN do something about it! That's OUR specialty!"

"No-no-no! Retired! I'm not going to make a big production of this. I want to live a normal life. You know, love, marriage and children!" she insisted tucking in her son. "Good night, sweetie. Give your aunties a kiss, Stanley."

"But between you and me we could send this malevolent spirit off to the happy hunting ground," said CeCe pointing to the sky. "Many A time we did that."

"You think he is an angry Indian?" asked Sam sounding confused again.

Al checked out his trusty handlink. "No known unhappy aboriginal spirits in this neck of the valley," he reported.

"NO! I am through..." Cyfer said louder.

"Sweetie! It could endanger your kids, your husband, your family," pleaded CeCe. "And I don't want to bring my kids into such a dangerous situation!"

"Any kind of spirit scares me," said Al. "Just a little bit. Cyfer help yourself out for once!"

Cyfer shook her head. "No! It'll toughen them up and make them see…"

"That their Mom doesn't care!" CeCe interrupted.

Cyfer began to get angry. "Now just a minute! You don't know what we invested in this place. It's our children's home and we don't want them thinking that they are growing up with the Addams Family!"

"And a live-in Casper is not going to shield them from it. We're both Wells; well we were, and we sisters stick together! It's always been like that CYFER!" exclaimed CeCe looking straight in her sister's eyes.

"True, but I want to move on," she said quietly almost whining. "As far as I'm concerned that part of my life is over!"

"Fine. DO IT! Move on. Forget about where you came from. Forget about Dad who you really are. But after we solve one more case!" she said holding her tightly.

"We don't have Sue!" she retorted. "Even if we wanted to do it I don't see how!"

"No, but I bet that Sage will replace her temporarily. You're good at research?" asked CeCe

"Ziggy is all up and ready," interjected Al since that was his number one job.

"Yep. I've done a few theses," said Sam.

Cyfer replied, "Sage. You didn't even finish the first year at TroyCommunity College!"

"Then I've got some catching up to do," said Sam sheepishly. "But between the three of us I am really sure we can give him his walking papers!"

"We'll send him to the moon. RIGHT?" CeCe asked grinning.

"RIGHT?" she again asked Eunice

"OH all right! Just do it QUIETLY!" she whispered.

"Hang up our shingle. "Wells" is back in business!" exclaimed CeCe proudly.

Ushering out her guests mentioning vaguely about the odor from a small dead animal, the three ghost hunters sat down around the antique dining room table. Each had a non-electronic notebook and non-electronic pencil in front of them. Cyfer nervously tapped her pencil incessantly. She looked up and looked down until she could hear the pipes rattling behind Sam.

Sam turned around looking startled.

Cyfer pieced her lips. "Nope. Just the toilet flushing. That's the charm of this old house and not some demon pipe fitter working on the plumbing, Sage."

Sam sat up straight and nodded his head. Sam had seen ghosts before and the one thing he was sure about was that they were capable of anything.

Al who had been shadowing Sam as usual reported in. "Yep, according to Ziggy the indoor plumbing was installed in the nineteen twenties. That still puts it on the far side of forty years old. Give me my nice new ranch house in Stallion's Gate any day!"

CeCe banged on the table. "All right, let's get started. Any regularities with this spook? Anything that's even minutely repeatable. I wish we still had all our old cue cards that contained our corporate memory. I'm relying exclusively on my own."

Cyfer agreed. "Me too. No definite signs. Just that stinky green thingy hanging around the pipes. His presence rattles whatever is next to it. Walls, pictures, furniture at very irregular times. When he finds one of us, he moans, dances about and moves things. You know he tries to scare us, but only a couple of times a week," said Cyfer trying to seem nonchalant though her eyes looked very flustered.

"And when did you first notice it?" asked Sam while taking down some notes.

"The odor, about nine months after we moved in. Then the excess noises started beyond that irritating flushing sound you just heard. And then two and half years ago he made his first appearance scaring my husband. Me he just made mad," cringed Cyfer. Though she wouldn't admit it, the sounds still sent shivers up and down her spine.

"And THAT should have been enough! Ever see her eyes pop out?" CeCe asked Sage.

"Ah, no!" he replied.

CeCe chuckled. "Never get my middle sister mad. Her temper never goes beyond a verbal lashing, but her hands fly up and her eyes pop out ever since she was in high school. Annoying a spirit won't make him leave. You can't really offend a ghost!"

"Then how do we get rid of him?" asked Sam.

CeCe wondered, "Is it a guy? Who knows! The four major methods of eviction are to help him finish some unfulfilled mission in life, convince him that his mission no longer matters, trick him into leaving or the final last straw is to magically push him into the hereafter. That's where our family voodoo comes in handy," she said raising her eyebrows looking for a reaction from Sam.

"OK," replied Sam calmly.

"And you're OK with that? Most people find it hard to believe that magic does exist," explained Cyfer.

"I have read of some fairly credible examples," replied Sam cautiously.

"And also seen a lot through your leaping," added Al. "But I think you've played the experience card enough. You are much too young and innocent, my dear Sage."

CeCe stood up, but not too quickly. "OK then. You should find it interesting. We do do, that voodoo so well. Now back to finding Mr. Green Goblin. We have to spread out and catch the uninvited spirit. I'll take the first watch and then…"

Cyfer shook her head. "On no! We're not turning this place into a scientific treasure hunt. I have my work and my kids and Sage has to…"

Sam put up his hand. "Well, I'll just tell them that we're working closely. We do have your book to finish proofing, Cyfer," Sam reminded her.

"And my vacation can be extended indefinitely if I have to. Stony is great at running the business," said CeCe. "I am NOT leaving here until we are done, sister dear!"

Cyfer objected. "Wait! I write alone. No one is looking over my typewriter."

"That's just a cover story while we hunt down the stinky whatever it is," explained CeCe who seemed to be taking the role of the older sister around the hesitant Cyfer.

Sam shrugged, "Honest. I just feel like it my duty to help you two out."

"And I can watch over my two cute little nephews," suggested CeCe happily.

"And I can watch over your two cute tooshes," echoed the holographic observer.

"Hey! That's my job!" snapped back Cyfer while standing up very quickly.

Sam inquired, "I thought that you were writing!"

"Well, having both jobs can help me pass the time," admitted Cyfer. At times between the boys and deadlines she never seemed to have anytime for herself.

"Great. Then it's all settled. And with Stony heading home, it'll be just us girls!" CeCe said holding onto both her sister and her new friend.

"Right!" exclaimed Sam as he looked over to Al and then up to the ceiling to the mystical leaping god.

One partner kept watch upstairs and one kept watch on the main floor at all times. Boredom was passed by taking care of the house, taking care of the next generation and trying to identify every strange noise they heard.

Nothing sounded out of the ordinary until four o'clock two days later when a taxi drove up to the front door. A tall distinguish woman with short dark hair exited the yellow cab and approached the front door. The driver took several large boxes out of the trunk.

Cyfer ran down the stairs and nearly knocked over her big sister. "SUE! I can't believe my eyes! It's so good to see you. And now we're all together, a family again! And you're here. But why are you here?"

She stood up straight, crinkled her little nose at Cyfer and said frankly. "I got CeCe's telegram. You can't open up our old company again without me. We're sisters, SIS!"

Cyfer took one step back. "Oh no. We're NOT reopening!"

She tilted her head to one side. "True, but I do feel that the game is afoot. I could feel the old tingles up my spine and I had a longing to run through some dark deserted house. And besides it always took the three of us to send them on to their last rewards. Heaven, hell or wherever they are supposed to be."

Cyfer replied, "WE have Sage!"

"Hello?" Sue asked as Sam approached.

Cyfer piped in, "We're very close since you two," Cyfer pointed to CeCe and Sue "… aren't! Aren't here that is."

Sue took a short breathe and then regrouped. "Sorry about that. I do miss our working to together. And doing things together as a family. We were very close for the first twenty-two years. And before we ever became spirit chasers, we were SISTERS!"

Cyfer retorted. "Think of her as your half-sister. She reminds me so much of you."

"Me?" Sue asked putting her hand on her chest. "No, she's a little pale for the Wells family. Unless your evil spirit scared her enough to turn her white as a sheet," said Sue smiling.

CeCe came up next to Sam. "I'd say she has accepted you, Sage. With that biting wit of hers. Umm! Hi, Sue. Good to see you."

"Likewise. And Sage welcome to our little Wells reunion for whatever the reason," chuckled Sue waving her arms around.

"To get rid of Cyfer's ghost!" said CeCe cutely.

"It's not my ghost. Just a resident leftover from some previous tenants," she jumped in denying any ownership of the ghostly apparition.

"Maybe he's from one of our old projects. Well, if my sister is haunted, then we're all haunted. And we Wells sisters WELL stick together!" said Sue as she put her arm out.

"Together!" chirped in CeCe placing her hand on Sue's.

"All for one and one for all," replied Cyfer as she joined in. "Come on Sage. You're practically a member of the family."

Sam reached in put his hand on top of the pile as the pipes began to moan and a mournful sound passed through the house. They all looked up eying the house ready to take on whomever or whatever it was.

That night Sue was on watch as Cyfer finished up a fast shower using up the last of the hot water.

"Whoooooo!" the spirit moaned. Clanging could be heard in the bathroom walls.

Cyfer grabbed a towel while Sam and the other ladies came running in.

"Whoa!" cried out Sue as CeCe and Sam checked out the walls. Sam looked away slightly blushing.

The green misty thing was hovering over the bathtub drain while the tub danced an impromptu jig.

Al walked through the wall screaming, "What in heavens name is that?"

Sue flashed the ghost with her old infrared camera as CeCe ran over toward Cyfer who was about to panic.

The bathtub bounced a couple of times and then the green mist dispersed. The foul odor never left the room.

CeCe walked over and ran her hands along the side of the tub. She found one sensitive spot and then held onto it for almost a minute. Her head dipped as her mind reached out to the spirit world. And it clicked.

Sam looked closely at CeCe. "You're psychic?"

She composed her thoughts and then answered Sam. "Yea, pretty heavy into it. Worked best with evil spirits. Never could pick the horses with it though," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Cyfer tucked the towel tightly around herself. "So what's your

en-psychic-pedia tell us?"

She put her hands together and closed her eyes looking very thoughtful. Her voice sounded far away. "Pain. Regret. And a name. Van Dusey. Mainly a lot of unfulfilled regret. Wow! One of the strongest emotional psyches I have ever encountered," said CeCe. The trance took a lot out of her as let go of the tub sat down on the nearest convenient spot.

"You all right, CeCe?" asked Sue.

CeCe took a deep breath. "Definitely. I haven't tried that trick since we found Colonel Clements at my house."

Sam motioned to Al.

"Come on Ziggy!" he cried out hitting his handlink buttons a bit too hard. Ziggy broke in. "If you keep abusing the equipment, you can check it out on the Internet yourself, Admiral!"

"I know you've looked into the past history of this old house. Any sign of that name?" Sam asked Cyfer.

Cyfer shook her head. "Well, not in the twentieth century. I didn't dig up everything on my house. The last family lived in it for three generations. Sounded safe then. Now I'm not so sure," Cyfer sighed. She loved the house and didn't want to be driven out.

Al's face lit up. "Bingo! Family named Van Dusen lived here in the early to mid-nineteenth century. Erik Van Dusen claimed to be cheated by a New York warehouse owner in about 1843. He died shortly thereafter," explained Al. "In this house!"

"Any strange deaths?" asked Sam.

CeCe lit up. "That's a very good question, Sage. I knew you would be good on this spirit business. Cyfer?" she asked turning to her older sister.

"There was a long line of sea captains living here. No violent deaths that I knew of. No major crimes committed. No suicides," replied Cyfer knowing that these kinds of incidents do sometimes leave behind scared spirits.

"Sam, you better not give them your information. Have them try out the local library," exclaimed Al.

CeCe jumped in. "Guess we better try the local library."

Al raised one eyebrow. "Now why didn't I think of that? And try the _Hudson Star_, a local news rag. Check... um… February 12th 1843. But I'd stared in the 1840s," suggested Al as he plunked away on his handlink.

Cyfer sighed, "Well, back to the old archives hunting. Got a lot of lung infections from all the dust back in my time. I don't really miss it!"

CeCe added, "All that dirt and mold and ..."

Cyfer added, "And Sue thrives on it!"

"I do have knack for finding solid research material," Sue said looking very pleased with herself. She loved delving into history and finding out lost bits and pieces of forgotten tales.

"Is that a knick knack?" asked Cyfer with a hint of a smile that could break out any second.

"OOOOOOO!" Sue shot back throwing her pad of paper at her sister.

Checking through the county library and the local historical society archives in record time the Wells sisters and Sam put together a rather thick folder on Erik Van Dusen, his personal and business dealings and his death. They found out that Erik Van Dusen was a successful ship captain and dealer in the Oriental trade until the Panic of 1837. Barely surviving the panic, he lost his shirt in a deal with a new partner, Rufus Calavicci.

Sam quickly looked at Al who went back to Ziggy for more information.

The handlink beeped and Al began to read off it with more than a passing interest. "Rufus Calavicci. Wholesaler and entrepreneur in New York City. No record of his partnership with Van Dusen, but our database for 200 years ago is rather sketchy. He did provide seed money for many business concerns including those involved in shipping. And to answer the obvious question, I don't know enough about my own parentage to find a connection to Rufus C. Orphan, you know," Al reminded his leaping friend.

Sue continued. "Calavicci was a successful banker. He went into a venture in 1840 buying silk in China and shipping it to the US. Calavicci was one of his partners. Three of Van Dusen's ships were lost in a typhoon in the western Pacific eighteen months later. That resulted the complete failure of his shipping business. "

Cyfer added, "Yea, those clipper cruises like that back then were really risky business."

Sue continued. "Our ghostly ship captain spent the next two years trying to make up for the loss without success. He kept blaming his backer for getting involved."

CeCe said, "But the meteorological catastrophe wasn't Calavicci's fault."

"That's damn straight," replied Al. "You tell them, CeCe!"

"And he died here soon afterwards leaving his family destitute. They sold the house. The house that he died in!" said Sue solemnly. "This house."

"And it became the tomb of his spirit!" said CeCe looking around at the walls and ceiling thinking that the house didn't look like a mausoleum.

"Please. This is creepy enough," sighed Cyfer. "My home, remember!" Still, she found herself doing the same comparison as CeCe. "Cemetery or home?" she thought.

"So now that we know the facts. How do we get him to move on?" asked Sam.

CeCe thought. "Well, we can't reclaim his business. He wouldn't know what to do with the money anyway," quipped CeCe.

"How about his descendants?" asked Cyfer.

Sue sounded discouraging. "Nope! His children had no kids so unless you find a fourth cousin."

"Then we have to contact him directly," suggested CeCe.

"Didn't you already do that?" asked Sam wondering about her previous psychic connection in the upstairs bathroom.

"Not as good as the old séance routine," said CeCe as her eyes sparkled.

"Séance?" replied Sam. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh boy!"

As the clock struck twelve midnight, the spook hunting sorority gathered in the dining room. A circle of blue candles surrounded the table that was draped with a purple tablecloth with strange Caribbean symbols on them. One lone tall white candle stood in the center of a three candle candelabra. Dozens of shadows of human images danced on the walls and the ceiling as the women walked in front of the flickering candles.

A shiver ran up Sam's back as the once friendly atmosphere of the old house turned into a Halloween haunted house. He felt the change in his bones, on the tips of his nerves and in the back of his head. Al's presence walking around the candles without shadows falling on him was also unsettling to Sam.

CeCe had each participant take one side of the large table. Sam sat between CeCe and Cyfer looking across at Sue whose classic face become even more stunning in the flickering candlelight.

"Now let us begin," CeCe said solemnly. "Put all your worldly thoughts from your mind and join hands."

Sam turned and whispered to Cyfer. "Does she know what she's doing?"

"You bet your ass. Sue and I never left the mortal plane. Felicity here is the only one who was on a speaking business with these otherworldly visitors," she said quietly. "If anyone can do it, CeCe can."

Sue hushed them.

CeCe closed her eyes while still staring deep into the white candle. "We need to reach out our minds. Reach out beyond this world. Lose all connections with what we know. Let us reach out together," she said quietly, solemnly.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself elsewhere floating in nothingness which was easy since he did it between every leap. Off in a cloud he could see the sky, feel the humidity from the damp air and feel nothing supporting him underneath. He was floating on a white cloud underneath a clear blue sky.

Al walked around and through the table looking up and down. He saw nothing happening and dreaded that something just might happen.

"Tonight we are not here. Tonight we are joining the spirits. Tonight we want to speak to, to communicate, to commune with one who inhabits here," she said as her voice became calmer and more distant. She leaned back as did the others.

"This is nonsense," exclaimed Al. "No intercosmic whatzits happening here. Hey CeCe. Why don't you try contemplating your navel!"

CeCe droned on and on about communicating with the spirit world as Sam felt himself drifting off. He was floating further and further from the house on the Hudson. Up in the clouds in another place and time.

"We are now one with the spirits. We are the spirits. We call for one who has inhabited this place. We call for Erik. Erik, do you hear us?" she called out as the candles began to smoke.

"We sure hear you," thought Cyfer looking at her sister who was almost floating. Her breathing had become shallow as her stomach rose and fell in front of the table.

Sue seemed less in a trance and more interested in CeCe and her act. Sage or Sam was definitely in a trance.

"Sam, you all right? SAM! Get Doctor Beeks in here Ziggy. Pronto!" he called up to the ceiling.

"Yes, KE-MO-SOBIE!" cracked Ziggy.

Cyfer lifted one eyebrow as her friend Sage seemed to be in as deep a trance as her psychic sister. "Sage? Sage!" she whispered. "Anyone in there?"

"Careful," whispered Sue. "Remember how violently CeCe came out of her trance back in Bloomington, 1961? Fell out of her chair and broke her arm!"

"Which is why I'm worried about our novice here," she said never letting dropping her hands as she nodded over to Sam.

"Me too, Cyfer," added Al as Cyfer seemed to look over in his direction.

"Cyfer?" asked Al.

She shook her head and then looked up. "Uh, yes!" she called out as her eyes darted all around the room and landed right on Admiral Calavicci.

"Erik. Erik speak to us. Come and join us in our circle," now moaned CeCe.

Sue looked peeved at Cyfer. "Now what is it?"

"Just some spook calling me. Van Dusey is that yousy?" she called out.

"No!" responded Al.

"Then who are you? Get out of my head, you mischievous misfit!" cried out a pissed Cyfer.

A shaken Al stepped back into the corner as Cyfer seemed to lose track of his presence.

"Erik. Erik Van Dusen," said CeCe. "We wish your presence. We wish to help. We wish to know your pain. Come and commune with us."

Sam began a low rhythmic moaning himself echoing the rhythm of CeCe. The smoke from the candles got thicker and the shadows danced around them.

Sue's eyes darted around the room. "I feel something. There is a presence here? Hello! Mr. Van Dusen!"

"Yea, at this rate the fire department will be here in ten minutes from all this… Cough… smoke, CeCe," exclaimed Cyfer.

"Quiet and patience," exclaimed Sue tightening her grip on Cyfer's hand.

Both Sam and CeCe seemed to lose control of their necks as their heads began to rotate around counterclockwise.

"Sam! You're starting to do aerobics here," said Al quietly. "Don't lose it, old buddy!"

"What the hell are aerobics?" asked Cyfer who took a long slow look around her dining room.

"Jeeze. Cyfer can hear me!" exclaimed Al.

"That would be correct, whoever you are," she said shaking her head while looking in Al's direction.

"Not too familiar with the workings of the world of the dead, Admiral, I would hypothesize that Doctor Beckett is hearing you and channeling your holographic image to Eunice Wells," explained Ziggy.

"Thanks, Ziggy!" he whispered.

"Who the hell is Ziggy? We are looking Erik van Dusen, you misdirected dead person," she shouted. Cyfer wanted to strangle the second voice in her head, but didn't break contact with the human circle.

Sue looked at them as if she were crazy for Sue did not see the Admiral from the future.

"Dusen. Erik Van Dusen," moaned CeCe as Sam had began to say the same thing in unison.

"That's right. What they said," yelled Cyfer looking up toward the vast cosmos.

"Easy, Cyfer. You don't want to break their trances," whispered Sue just a wee bit louder.

"Yea, I'm not in a trance and I'm still hearing voices! This is my first long distance call to dead and I don't like it," she complained. Her eyes tried to locate Al, but he was hidden among in the constantly moving shadows.

"You best keep quiet, Admiral Calavicci," suggested Ziggy who did not want to disturb the rivers of time.

"Calavicci! We're trying to find the spirit of my house haunter Erik van Dusen and I get on his banker's party line," complained Cyfer to Sue.

"Be quiet," whispered her older sister.

Al just stood still not knowing where to go or what to say as Sam's head rolled round and round imitating CeCe's actions. He figured that Sam was so far out of it that he wasn't up to taking his advice or even hearing him.

Al texted Ziggy to also remain vocally quiet as he tried to get more information out of her.

Cyfer watched her sister and best friend carefully as they leaned back and forth to some intercosmic musical interlude provided by Al's handlink.

"What's with your swaying? Getting some dance instruction from Mozart?" asked Sue who looked particularly careful at her way-out sister.

Cyfer shook her head. "No, these tones keep coming into my head. Not unpleasant, but no musical theme to them. Beep-beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep!"

Al then directed the handlink to a silent mode before Cyfer started humming the five tones from "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" which had not yet been written. Yet.

"There. It's gone. Thanks to that Calavicci spirit," she sighed as Al stiffened hoping that his name wouldn't be spoken out loud in history. Again! Al just could not win whether he did anything or whether he did nothing. He looked up as Sam's head stood erect and CeCe's eyes popped open.

"Well? WELL!" inquired Cyfer.

"CeCe, sweetie. What is it?" asked Sue who then first glanced over at Sage.

"We are in the presence of the spirit we have been calling for," said CeCe ever so solemnly.

"I don't see anything. Not a mist, a sound or even the pungent stink of the demon from the drain," complained Cyfer as she looked all around the dining room.

"No, there is a chill in the air," Sue announced as Cyfer immediately shivered as she felt it. Al couldn't help but shiver too as an unreal atmosphere permeated the room. White mist seemed to flow in from under the kitchen door. A fog filled the entire room as new shadows seemed to dance among the mist.

Al walked over to Sam. He stared off into space. Al could see that no one was home in the mind of Doctor Samuel Beckett.

CeCe looked up and announced, "Erik? Are you with us?"

"Why do you summon me, mortal?" asked Sam in a deep voice with an old world accent.

Cyfer retreated without letting go of her circle while Sue leaned forward utterly fascinated by the deep voice coming from their friend Sage.

"Sage? You OK?" asked Cyfer as Sam just stared ahead. "My, what a deep voice you have there Grandma!"

CeCe said quietly, "She's fine. Her mind is merely in a recessive state."

"She's sleep talking so to speak. Just like with that Creole priestess in New Orleans back in '60," snapped in Sue. Sue had always been more into the that part of ghost hunting than Cyfer who was really the bookkeeper of their team.

"Shh," whispered CeCe.

"Why have you summoned me!" the voice again said as Al shook shivered.

Cyfer straightened her back. "Are you the dude or person who has been living here in MY house and rattling my PIPES?"

"My essence does reside within these walls," Sam said with a bit of arrogance.

"Now we're on the right channel. Or channeling as the case may be. Now Mr. Van Dusen or can I all you Erik?" she asked cutely.

"Cyfer! Keep it serious," cautioned CeCe.

"One. This is my house. And two. I never took this too seriously or my inner demons would've given me such nightmares! Whoa!" retorted Cyfer. "All right. Spirit. W-w-w-why do you haunt h...h...h...ere?" she asked. "Better?" she said quietly to CeCe who was looking much too cute.

"Woe to those within these walls. Remember. Remember to care for those in your life," Sam said woefully.

"I believe that that's the same advice Marley gave Scrooge," replied Sue. "And this is not nineteenth century London."

"No, but he did die in that part of the world. As to caring for my offspring my will is in fine shape," snipped Cyfer.

"Do not leave thy affairs amiss for it may be too late. Thou cannot from be-y-y-yond the grave," Sam moaned as his head began to wobble.

CeCe added, "Do you have unfulfilled actions dealing with your last business calamity?"

"CeCe! That's a bit TOO direct!" suggested Sue.

"Oh-h-h-h," moaned Sam as his eyes rolled in his head.

"Right on target, sister dear. Now Erik, whom I am going to call you, your past business deals just don't affect life here anymore. Not us and not your family nor any of your descendants which you should know that you don't have," explained Cyfer anxious to get his creaky road show finished.

"Easy Cyfer," said CeCe, but she was on a roll.

"So you can stop the bad Lon Chaney imitations and move on to that great final resting place," she said pointing up to the sky. "So get on with it!"

Sam started rocking back and forth as his eyes rolled around in his head.

"Hey, easy on MY FRIEND there! Erik, there is nothing more you can do here. Move it out now. Two, three, four! MARCH!" she commanded.

"NOOOOOO!" moaned Sam as the painful sound reverberated through the house and sent tingles up the spines of all who heard him.

"Quit complaining! You're already dead! Leave this place!" she replied as Sue and CeCe looked at each other worried.

Another lonesome wail came from Sam sounding like a lost being that was half-coyote half-vampire.

Sue tried to say something, but she continued, "If you can't deal with it here, then try and deal with that Calavicci spirit that's hovering around here!"

Al looked first at Cyfer and then at Sam who sat up straight and then looked in the direction that Cyfer had pointed. Sam vibrated slightly and then collapsed.

"Sam!" screamed Al as a greenish smoke appeared to come out of Sam.

Sue observed, "He may have left her. I can't say for sure."

"That is definitely the Van Dusen spirit. I can feel it," said CeCe not letting go of their hands. "It has the same mystical qualities that I felt earlier."

Sam moaned and rocked as the two sisters tightly held onto his hands not wanting to break the circle. The green spirit slowly flew around the room faster and faster.

"Look at 'em go!" yelled Cyfer. "Yippee! Now ... just go!" she said cheering him on.

"Fascinating," replied Sue never taking her eyes off the spirit on the merry-go-round above them.

Al seemed to have the same reaction. He wasn't fascinated, like Sue, he just wanted it to go away.

It traveled around the ceiling, then under the table, over Al and then headed for the far wall and went through it. The unreal atmosphere vanished almost immediately while all the candles suddenly went out simultaneously.

"Well?" asked Cyfer.

CeCe searched and searched. Then she smiled. "Nothing. All gone!"

"Really?" asked Sue.

"I'll check the rest of the house, but I don't think I'll find any residue from Erik Van Dusen. You're little tongue-lashing tirade may have done it," said CeCe. "Not the usual way we handled our spooks in the past." "Well after all the trouble he put me through what did you expect?" asked Cyfer who broke into a big smile.

"Nothing less from my middle sister," said Sue patting her hand as Sam seemed to come around. "I always knew that temper of yours would come in handy some day."

"Sam you, OK?" asked Al.

"Hey, Sagebrush! How's that mouthpiece of the demon world?" asked Cyfer rocking her gently.

"What? Did I leap?" he asked unconsciously.

"Nope! Not quite yet though Ziggy says that you're almost finished here. You spoke for Master Van Dusen who seems to have been given his walking papers," explained Al bringing the previously unconscious Sam up to date.

"That's good," said Sam quietly as he massaged his throbbing temples.

"You were a good addition to our trio," said CeCe touching his shoulder as Sam barely heard her. "I knew you had it in you, Sagebrush."

"Absolutely," replied Sue. "I am very impressed."

Cyfer added, "And that as a great complement from Susan "Van" Wells!"

"And no other problems seem to bother Miss Eunice Marie Wells Hettering," said Al who looked over toward her. "CYFER!" he called out.

"She can't hear you," mumbled Sam.

"Yea, thank God. There is still NO record of this ghostly apparition in Ziggy's data banks. But Cyfer is now twice as successful as an author of children's gothic tales long before _Goosebumps_ ever became popular. Eliminating this little "distraction" must have helped her concentration."

"Come on Sage. You're getting some sleep," said Cyfer. "It's been a hard day's night so to speak"

"Ah, mother Cyfer. Very encouraging. Things are definitely back to normal," replied Sue.

"You're so great with kids. I hope I will have kids someday," sighed CeCe looking rather dreamy.

"You will. And thanks," Cyfer said as Sam stood up. "I couldn't have done it without ALL my sisters!"

"Sisters first. Ghosts second," said Sue. "Leaping third," jumped in Al. "So long, my little ghost buster!" Sam stood up, tried to say something, but then vanished into trillions of microscopic packets of blue quantum energy and was on his way to another adventure sometime somewhere.


	6. Chapter 6

**Return to the Wells (Part 2)**

_Project Director's Log. Admiral Albert Calavicci recording. The return of the luscious Wells sisters marked our return to the world of supernatural happenings. As Sage Peterson, a friend of Cyfer Wells Hettinger, Sam helped vanquish a rogue spirit firm Cyfer's home. Since Sam had leaped after six days and seventeen hours in 1970 it can be concluded that he completed his mission correcting an error in the past. Project equipment, people and Ziggy all performed well above established norms. It should be noted that this leap required Doctor Beckett to channel a dead spirit during a séance. In addition, it should be noted that Cyfer Hettinger saw and heard my neurological hologram during the séance. No indications that it affected the leap or the lives of those involved. Report faithfully submitted the 17th of April, 2008 Admiral Al Calavicci. End recording._

Back in the Quantum Leap Control Room, everyone was ecstatic about the completion of another _successful_ leap. The staff didn't break into thunderous applause, but each one dealt with it in their own personal way.

Donna Beckett closed her eyes and prayed that Sam would be coming home the next leap even if it was for just a short visit.

Dominic made a little scratch on his desk indicating another good leap totaling over fifty scratches or leaps for that he had personally supervised.

Sammy Jo nodded toward Donna, gave her thumbs up and then lifted up her water bottle toasting her father.

Stephie Hartmann put down her headset, sighed deeply and then went back to her work. Her work and her friends at the project were the only things that kept her from dwelling on her unrequited love of Sam Beckett. She sat back at her workstation and a bitterly cold breeze hit her, though her trained mind noted that not even the smallest piece of paper on her desk was disturbed. The chill passed as suddenly as it came though it left a deep and lasting memory throughout her body.

Donna Beckett opened her eyes while standing next to the main console. She was about to say something to Dominic when a deadly deathly chill passed around her. And under her. And through her. She pulled her sweater tightly around her body.

"Brr! Ziggy, how cold is it in here?" she quickly asked.

"The mean temperature of the Control Room is seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. Really, Doctor Beckett. I do pride myself in maintaining an adequate environment for both myself and those who inhabit the Control Room," she said a bit snottily.

Donna could see Dominic shivering.

"No matter your perfection, please increase the temperature Miss Zig Zag by two degrees. It is not at its usual comfort level," Dominic quickly shot back.

"Yes, Professor Lofton," replied a contrite Ziggy.

A couple of other staff members felt the same chill as a technician standing near the maintenance shaft shivered as it seemed to leave the PQL Control Room.

Admiral Albert Calavicci finished the short walk from the Imaging Chamber to the Control Room in twice the usual amount of time. His cigar had long gone out though it still hung at the side of his mouth. His shoulders dropped a bit as he deposited his handlink back in the brightly colored main control panel. Tossing his well used butt into the nearest trash container, he leaned on the console and surveyed the Control Room staff.

"People we finished another leap, quite successfully I might add. My congratulations to you all since everyone contributed and performed admirably. All final reports should be in my inbox by 0800 the day after tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, after six days running around with one strange leap, I am heading home. Thank you all again!" he said nodding his head in appreciation. Unstated in his little speech, but written his face, was the weariness from a marathon leap session and his uneasiness from another little incursion into the supernatural world.

Donna Beckett did see how rundown Al looked. She had developed a close relationship with the one man who was in constant contact with her husband or at least in contact with him when he was performing his observing duties. She followed him out of the Control Room and into the corridor.

As Donna started her mother hen routine, Al gave her thumbs up that everything was fine, though it wasn't. He headed for the elevators, ascended eight floors, left the reception area, crawled into "Bette the Vette" and headed out through the front gate of Mitchell Airbase.

Driving his decades old Chevrolet Corvette calmed him down as nothing else could accept the woman that knew him better than anyone. Racing down the deserted desert road Al knew that Beth would be waiting for him. In the darkness around him an occasional tree or cactus passed in the distance or a rundown shack would appear out of the darkness and then disappear as quickly. Despite all the people and all the years involved in Project Quantum Leap, the base was still isolated from the world as project employees lived in Stallions Gate, Casa Verde or the other more modern bedroom communities nearby.

The headlights shone low on the road in front of him. The dotted center line came at him like white tracers from one of the antiaircraft guns on the _USS Hornet_. The rhythmic pattern kept coming at him as nothing else was there to distract him from his journey home. Eventually all thoughts of being tired or worried passed from Al's mind as the rhythm became a beat and the beat a melody and before he knew it he was tapping out an old Johnny Cash railroad song on the stirring wheel that seemed to match the rhythm of the road. Humming along he shifted gears and took off down the road leaving a trail of desert dust behind him.

Four miles and a new song later Al was busily tapping the steering wheel musically leaving Folsom Prison when the feeling he had between his fingers and the road felt loose. For just an instant he felt like he was flying, not a bad feeling for a pilot when in the air. Then the feeling continued as the road veered from in front of him and the desert came into view. Tires screeched as Al tried to correct the car, but it kept on spinning. Al was thrown against the door as he vainly tried to pull the car back on the road. In another instant the desert began rotating in front of him followed by the road and the desert and back to the road again as Al spun around and around. Unable to regain control of his car he covered his face with his arms and waited for the inevitable crash.

Suddenly all motion stopped with a sudden jerk. His headlights shined into the desert showing a few scrub brush plants and a sandy rocky desert floor. Checking himself out Al found nothing more than sore muscles and a shortness of breath. Surveying the ground around him Al was surprised and delighted that he had spun off the road, but the sparse flat desert had given him a great deal of space to spin out in. He unstrapped himself and stood up. The sky and stars around him were quite bright since there was no light pollution this far from civilization. Bett appeared to be in good shape, though he wondered about the condition of the low undercarriage after spinning across the rocky desert floor. He followed the curved tire tracks back to the road and walked back to where his skidding had started.

"Darn it. Not an oil slick, wet spot or road kill in sight," he said out loud.

Patting his pockets he couldn't find a cigar to calm his nerves since he had left them in his briefcase. He looked down at his hands that were shaking just a bit. His car was in its usual peak mechanical condition. He had no logical reason why the car flew of the road. As the started up the car he thanked God that he had made it and ended his prayer with, "Oh boy!"

Nothing on the highway indicated why he went into a spin. His mind was totally on his drive home. And he had been feeling much better about work as he cruised home except for this bone chilling breeze that passed him just a little ways out of town.

"Then why had his car spun out?" was the only question on Al's mind as he flipped open his cell phone to call Beth. During an extra long ring Al shivered. He felt an unearthly chill pass through which was unusual for as warm as these desert nights were. He called Beth to get a tow truck because he wasn't going to trust driving Bett back over the rocky terrain. (His car had been named after his wife many years before.) He had to have her checked out after their little mishap and he hoped the mechanic could explain the cause of the accident. Al had no idea and it worried him.

Leaving his run-amuck car at Manny's Precision Autowerks, Beth picked up her husband and drove Al home in silence. She was sure that Al had been out in the desert driving like some hotshot teenager with his father's sports car. She knew that Al could never get the taste of speed out of his system since he was no longer hot dogging across enemy territory at 500 miles an hour 500 feet off the ground. In others words, he longed for his youthful days as a Navy pilot as he was back in the 1960's. She shut off the car and looked over at Al who had fallen asleep on the long, long drive back to La Casa Calavicci.

Beth was actually wrong since Al was extremely tired. Boring as it might be his old corvette was more of a nostalgia piece and commuter car and not an instrument to fulfill his childish youthful fantasies. Beth sighed and then slightly poked him in the shoulder. "Al. Al. Wake up. We're home. AL!" she called out.

"Who? What? Oh, hi babe. What a night! Man, it's almost two?" he moaned looking at the car clock. He shook the sleep from his head, thanked Beth for the early morning taxi run and got out of the car. He stretched and then caught a musty stale odor. "Must be something that crawled into the garage and died," he thought not wanting to alarm his wife.

Beth closed up the car as Al watched as one who still appreciated her sleek lines after living with and putting up with him for more years than he wished to remember.

"Coming to bed?" she asked.

"Yea," he sighed as that same odor seemed to pass by him. A rattling sound made him look up at the shelf storing some old leftover paint cans above him.

"What the hell?" he asked out loud as they rattled and danced about him and then came a wooden ripping sound the entire shelf came down on him. Paint and paint cans hit his head and shoulders and he the side of Beth's car.

"AL!" screamed Beth as the last can rattled and bounce on the hard floor.

Al was now covered with a variety of pastels and earthy paint colors that dripped over him and unfortunately her car. He was about to say something and then just walked over and grabbed a rag and started to wipe off he gooey mess.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" she asked trying not to giggle at her multicolored husband. Her mood turned sour when she saw the side of the car which had a similar random paint job.

Al shook his head. "Yea, I'm OK. What a NIGHT! This suit is heading to the rag bin. Anything else you got for me?" he asked looking upwards.

Beth looked at him, but didn't approach him since he was such a mess. Al took her look to say, "I know. I should have gotten rid of them years ago."

He continued to wipe off his suit and then added, "Back the car out and we'll hose down your car. It should come right off. As for me, a long soak in the tub would do me good."

Heading to bed, Beth and Al collapsed close to dawn. As far as Al was concerned, Donna could handle the staff tomorrow. The Project was almost as busy the day after a leap was completed as during Sam's leap and then it settled down to a mundane routine until Ziggy again announced that Sam had leaped into another host.

Throughout his early morning sleep Al kept waking up and going back to sleep. While Beth slept soundly curled up next to him, Al got a half hour's sleep and then woke up and turned over. A cold breeze kept disturbing his sleep and an annoying sound reverberated in the walls of their small attached bathroom. The pipes kept making noises that he usually associated with running water. But Beth was in bed with him and none of his beautiful daughters still lived at home.

"Gotta get a plumber out here," Al mumbled to himself as he went back to sleep for the fourth time.

The sun shone through the window as Al rolled over and saw 11:17 on his bedside clock radio. Stretching he felt good having accumulated enough Z's through his disconnected series of short naps that had started in the early morning hours. Another smell got his attention as he slipped on his slippers and grabbed his old worn-out robe. Bacon. The smell of frying bacon felled the air. Wandering into the kitchen he saw a cheery Elizabeth O'Dwyer Calavicci busy frying away.

"Smells good, but I thought we were cutting down on the "you know what's," he said giving her a very good peck on the lips.

"After last night, I knew you'd appreciate a big breakfast, darling," she said looking at him lovingly.

"And tomorrow back to the beans sprouts and alfalfa bread?" he kidded giving her a big hug.

"Not quite that extreme!" she giggled.

Al grabbed a cup of coffee as Beth finished up the bacon. Reaching to turn off the stove a group of sparks jumped out at her. The bolt of electricity momentarily lit up the kitchen in an eerie blue-white light. Beth screamed and then fell backwards onto the hard tile kitchen floor.

Al dived toward her, but missed. "Beth!" he cried as both of them ended up in a pile on the floor. Holding her hand, Beth asked Al to please get up and get her the washcloth. A strange smell came up through the drain that Al didn't seem to notice.

"What in hell was THAT?" asked Al.

"Some kind of electrical shock. It didn't burn me much. Take the skillet off the stove, please Al," she said getting up quite sore in the rear area.

"And I'm pulling the plug on that damn thing! Guess I'm calling the electrician too," sighed Al as he disconnected the stove.

Patting herself down Beth didn't find any broken bones, but her hand hurt like hell. She went into the bathroom to apply a little medical first aid. Being a nurse came in handy during family emergencies.

"Forget about the fancy breakfast! Get dressed and I'm taking you to the Crossroads Diner," Al said. "And maybe to the emergency room?"

"I'm fine, but the lunch out would be nice," she said lovingly while bandaging her hand.

Al nodded in agreement and then gave the stove an unceremonious kick in the oven door.

With no charity or nursing volunteer work this fine weekday, Beth Calavicci spent the afternoon working on her computer going through useless emails and correspondences with a multitude of friends from the Navy, medical and PQL circles she had run around over the years. Setting the computer on standby she pushed back from the desk and sighed knowing that housework and dinner were still on her long agenda.

Working in the living room she noticed a stale annoying odor. Out came the powder to freshen up the carpet. The plug of the sweeper sparked when plugged in causing Beth to give a little yip. She rubbed the bandage on her hand absent-mindedly and then went back to the sweeping. Finishing up the living room by sorting everything in sight, Beth started preparing the dinner ingredients. Nothing too fancy since she had to nuke it in the microwave. All throughout her preparations, an evil smell came up through the sink drain. Dumping some baking soda down the drain seemed to stop it from bothering her, though a funny gurgling sound could be heard from way down in the pipes.

A ringing of the old hardwired phone caused Beth to leave the kitchen and go into the hallway. After ten minutes she had had a pleasant conversation with Donna who had invited them over for dinner that weekend. Returning to the kitchen she found all the food she had prepared unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

"What in heaven's name?" she asked herself. "Checking the back door she found that it was locked so no animals had been in her house. She emphasized the HER part for this is the only house she and Al had ever stayed in more than three years with all his job transfers. And this is where her children grew up. And unfortunately it left her a very empty nest, but a nest she was very peculiar about in how it looked…and smelled.

Looking around for any evidence of mischief, she wandered back into the living room and smelled that same rotten odor which had returned even more pungent than earlier. She almost cursed the rug as she grabbed her sweeper and cleaned. Again.

Al who had been given a ride by Chief Fulton, Sammy Jo's husband, had returned home in a good mood after his short day at the project. Whistling an old Beach Boys tune, he did love his years he spend in San Diego, he called out to his wife, "Beth? Hi darling! Did you hear yet from Manny about the car?"

Nothing. No reply. Just silence.

"Beth?" he repeated poking his nose in and out of the various rooms in his single floor ranch house.

Grumbling noises could be heard from the main bathroom as Al found her in the tub gloves on scrubbing the tile furiously. "Beth!" he exclaimed glad to see his wife who was much too occupied to greet him.

She looked up at him through tussled hair and streaked makeup as if she was about to pounce. She blew off one piece of hair from her face and then returned to scrubbing the tile.

"From the looks of things I won't ask about your day. Mine was… uneventful," Al said trying to be tactful. In fact his day had been a great relief to him. Nothing occurred out of the ordinary.

Beth straightened her back staying on her knees and then pushed all of the tussled hair out of her face.

"Awful!" was the single word description she had for her day which only started at 1 PM. Other words which had a greater emotional impact could have better expressed herself, but she was just too tired to tap into her mental thesaurus.

She stood up and did give him a quick peck, sighed the sigh of a very tired person and then pointing to the tile she asked, "Have you ever seen brown mold? That stuff won't come off with anything that won't seriously damage our tile. Albert, I have never seen anything like it!"

"Doesn't look very inviting. Smelly too," her hubby added. "I'm sorry."

"And the living room rug and the kitchen drain. Nothing went right. And then dinner just leaped off the counter for no apparent reason," she said pointing to the kitchen. "I'm about ready to move into that retirement community in Phoenix."

"Come here, my little hard worker," he said taking her in his strong arms.

She held him tightly and sighed. "What work? Nothing got finished! At least tomorrow is another day!"

"There, there, Scarlet. Husband Al does give a damn! I'll run down and pick up Chinese. You go, sit and do nothing!" he said.

Beth nodded, but didn't want to let go of him.

Near midnight, Al stepped into the shower in their bathroom. More than just mold could be seen on the tile since Al could actually wipe it off with his finger. With all of his scientifically training, all Al could call it was "goo". Brown thick pasty goo. Thinking that he'd have the lab guys at work look at the strange substance, he wiped away what he could and turned on the shower. Adjusting the water temperature was second nature to Al. It was nice and warm and then suddenly went dead cold.

"Yeo-wee!" he cried trying to readjust the flow. Nothing he did changed the water temperature. Even turning it off didn't stop it. He was about to jump out when the water changed very quickly to scalding hot. Water that was so hot that the bathroom instantly filled up with steam. Al hopped from the tub his skin now a bright red. The air irritated his now sensitive skin. Al did not find himself physically burned, just emotionally bruised.

In his fright he thought he heard a mournful bit of laughter coming from the walls, but he wasn't sure. Scratching the normal nightly shower he wrapped himself up and went to bed. More of the very low mournful sounds could be heard, though it could have been some coyotes having a festival under the nearly full moon. Al decided to ignore it and turned over to get some badly needed rest.

Dreaming of a tropical paradise, Al was drifting along a sun splashed beach, drinking his favorite tropical alcohol beverage while dozens of sun baked hula girls threw orchid blossoms at him. He continued his pleasant dreamy interlude until he was wakened by a horrifying scream. "ALBERT!" cried out Beth Calavicci who Al found standing at the foot of their bed. She was wearing her midnight housecoat that she used on cold desert nights. Her hands were on her hips and she had not looked that mad except the night he had threatened to reenlist after a spat when he had just returned from Vietnam.

"Ah, Bethy? What's wrong," he said trying to rub his hair and sit up at the same time.

"The tub. Mud or some disgusting substance is backing up from the drain," she said pointing toward the hall bathroom.

"Must be the sewers backing up. I'll call the city building inspector in the morning," he said going to lie down again.

"That is not sewage when it smells like death itself, ALBERT! Our house. Our home is acting like some kind of cheap horror picture!" she said.

"Yea, I kind of noticed that. But how can I deal with the super-duper-natural?" he asked.

"This is Stallion's Gate not Amityville, ALBERT! And I am not going to be driven from MY home! You and I've seen enough of the supernatural hocus-pocus with Sam's leaps," she said trying to stare him down. "What are you going to do about it?"

Al couldn't shake Beth's evil stare. He wanted to close his eyes and forget about it, but he knew unlike the rest of the world he had to deal with his wife. And Beth could be very formidable.

He sat back up and looked at Beth, "I know. I didn't want to admit it, but I'd say our house is possessed."

"And you BETTER do something about it. What if something happened serious to you or me or worse to our daughters or grandchildren? Those weird noises are out to get us! One more night of it and I'll be joining those damn coyotes out on the mesa!" she said nodding toward the nearly full moon.

"And I think I know why. That spirit that I thought the Wells sister took care of had it in for a 19th century guy named Calavicci. Funny ain't it?" he asked.

"No! And he came after you?" asked Beth.

"Over a hundred years of unrequited hate can make you things, but who knows how a ghost thinks? I never really believed in this stuff until Sam started coming across them. And all our problems were having seemed to mirror what was happening in Cyfer's house back in New York in 1970. The only house exorcists I know are the same women we came across twice before. Just a second!" he said holding up his pointing finger.

Al grabbed his portable wrist communicator. "Ziggy?"

"A little early for you, Admiral?" she asked.

"Well, I knew that you'd be up," quipped Al. "Are any of the Wells women still in the ghost business?" asked Al.

"Who you gonna call?" asked Ziggy.

Al hit his communicator too hard. "Don't even say it! I need to find them for a personal haunting consultation."

"No current record of any of the Wells sisters operating a de-house-haunting organization; however Chris Hettinger does operate a strange encounter consulting company in New York City under the name of Wells Investigations," replied Ziggy.

"Sounds promising," said Al. "What's he investigate?"

"Think _X-Files_!" replied Ziggy. "And Admiral, I would suggest you visit it personally. This isn't like ordering a toaster from Macy's over the Internet."

"Thanks Ziggy. Download the contact info into my inbox and get me a couple of airline tickets to New York. Calavicci out!" he said hitting the off button. "Beth, despite your best instincts why don't you spend a few days with Donna? I don't know how long this is going to take."

"No! This is my house..." she started to say.

Al took her by her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "I know that. I just don't want anything to happen to you. You're more important to me than anyone. I'll be gone a couple of days tops. And then after that, who knows? Go visit with Donna and Stevie. We'll whip this, I promise!" he said holding up one hand.

"All right! But you better get things done fast, Bingo-Bango!" she said lovingly.

Walking through the lower Eastside of New York City, Al found an office building that had seen a hundred years come and go. Going up the creaky stairs, the second door on the right had the name "Wells Investigations" painted on the translucent glass. Inside was a bright and cheery office as a smartly dressed fifty something woman looked up at Al.

"Hi there. May I help you?" she asked.

"Sagebrush?" asked Al as his mouth dropped open.

Her smile turned to a little pout as she lost the twinkle in her eye. "That's me quite a long time ago!"

"And now you're the receptionist?" asked Al scratching the back of his neck.

Sage took a bit of offense from the comment. "No, actually I'm an equal partner. This is just a very SMALL office. Chris Hettinger sits in there. I'm out here. See? Now HOW can I help you?"

Al stood up straight and then asked. "Um, yes. I am familiar with your company. Where are the Wells sisters?"

"Technically and actually they retired from the business long ago. Circa 1962! Mrs. Hettinger's son and I have the franchise. What is your problem? Please provide me with the facts!" she said pulling out a pad of paper.

Al hesitated, shrugged and started on an abbreviated tale of his car accident and the strange behavior of his house in Stallion's Gate, New Mexico.

Sage checked a few references on her computer, did some quick calculations and then announced. "Hmm. Class 2 problem, Albert. Let's go talk to our chief investigator, Mr. Hettinger. Follow me!"

she said ushering into the inner office.

Inside was a young man between thirty and forty sitting with his feet up on his desk reading USA Today wearing an old tan suit and hat with pistol sticking our from under his jacket.

"Hiya chief. This here is Al, Al Calavicci and he has a little class 2 vacating problem," she said throwing a file on his desk.

Chris Hettinger threw down his paper, sat up and inspected the manila folder.

"Thanks, doll. Sit down Al," he said motioning to the only other chair in the sparsely furnished office.

Al looked over at this junior detective and then added. "Didn't I same see this act in _Murder, My Sweet_? with Dick Powell and Claire Trevor?"

Chris looked up at Al. "We do try to provide our clientele with a bit of film noir atmosphere. Thanks, cookie. That's all," he said motioning toward the door.

Al thumbed at the door. "Isn't that your Aunt Sage there and not Mary Astor?"

"Yea, we run a small operation here," he said glancing up momentarily from his folder.

"Pretty little, I'd say. Is this forties motif just for the customers or is it due to your current budget constraints?" asked Al now lighting up. "Care for one, Bogey?" he asked.

"Thanks, I don't," he replied shaking his head. "I will admit that we haven't been doing too well lately, but our clients are always satisfied. And since we deal with the unusual and unexplainable, I like to give them a bit of hard-fast reality in our office and in our other dealings with them."

"This is reality? You don't fill me with much confidence kid, but your heritage is quite impressive. I've seen your aunts and your own mother in action. Definitely out of the ordinary, but effective," admitted Al as he puffed away. He knew he had to see the originator of all this hooey to get his own problem solved.

"Well, my family thanks you. My mother is long retired from the business. My Aunt Sue was a news photographer who died during a Scud missile attack in Saudi Arabia in 1991. My Aunt CeCe I can talk into helping out occasionally. Well once," he admitted. He would have giving anything to have been involved with them in their golden days.

"I just didn't know that you guys had been discounted so heavily by Wal-Mart. I still need to see the original ghost eliminators. You see I'm sure that my house haunter once occupied your old house up in Poughkeepsie."

"I know the case or spirit if you like. I was just a kid and that was almost forty years ago. Sage get in here," Chris called through the door.

Sage swaggered in moving her hips as if she was pitching on the deck of the Hornet during the '68 typhoon.

Al shook his head trying to get the vision of her motion of her hips and this damn noir narration out of his head. The Bogey atmosphere was starting to get to him.

Even Chris could tell that any extras were lost on Al Calavicci. "Cut the ambiance, Sage. Did Al here mention that he thinks the ghost that Mom got rid of back in …" stuttered Chris as he searched his earliest memories.

Sage interrupted. "Sure 1970. I remember the time, but not the incident. My mind somehow completely erased it. Can you imagine my FIRST ghost? Lost my spiritual virginity then," she said bobbing her head up and down.

Al knew that Sam had occupied her place when it happened and that she was safely in the Waiting Room throughout the entire incident. She couldn't remember it because she wasn't there.

"Well, could I please speak with your mother? If I can't get rid of it then I'll HAVE to move. And there will be NO living with my wife after THAT!" explained Al.

"So it's really Eunice you want to see? All right then I'll see what I can do but I make no promises," said Sage as she picked up the phone.

Al tapped his cigar on the bottom of his shoe still hoping for the best.

The next morning Al got a call from detective Chris even before his alarm went off.

"Hey, Al baby. The mum took the bait. You and I rendezvous at her pad at noontime," he announced.

Al rubbed his hand through his hair and then felt a sour feeling in his stomach. "Look Sam Spade cut the accent and Mickey Spillane dialog. If you meant we have a 12 noon appointment with Mrs. Eunice Hettinger then say so, kid," said Al who was a bit impatient before seven o'clock in the morning.

Silence.

"Christopher?" asked Al.

"Yes, Mr. Calavicci. I apologize for my act, but everyone needs a handle and in my business you have to stand out," explained the dime-novel knockoff artist.

"Noted. I'll meet you in the lobby. Is that satisfactory?" asked Al Calavicci.

"Yes, Mr. Calavicci. I really didn't think that my mother would be interested, but when she heard your name she reluctantly agreed. Do you know why you would hold such a weight with her?" Chris asked his one and only client.

Al pieced his lips together. "That may come out in our meeting. At the moment I would rather not say, kid."

"You're the customer. Ten o'clock in the lobby," he reiterated.

"Yea, ten o'clock. Good morning," he sighed looking over at the clock that read 6:45. Al hung-up and went back to counting his … well that's between Al and his nocturnal accountant. There WAS a big smile on his face.

At noon Al, Chris and his Aunt Sage pulled up to the Hettinger residence on the banks of the majestic Hudson. The house had changed little since Al first saw it over thirty-five years before. The tree covered driveway had thickened and the gardens in the front yard were now quite extensive.

Stepping on the loose stone, Al walked through the same world he had only seen as a holographic projection. This time the wind blew cold around him, the stone made noise under his feet and there was another major difference. Instead of the slightly stale office air, Al smelled the flowers and other flowering plants in the gardens surrounding him.

"Kinda depressing, don't you think?" asked Sage turning up her lip sadly and then shaking her head.

Al disagreed. "Though I'm not into these big houses, I still find them somewhat impressive."

"That's the point. All this room and here is poor Cyfer living alone in this big old drafty house," lamented Sage.

"Aunt Sage. I grew up here, but there is something missing without Dad being here. Lots of memories. This way, Mr. Calavicci," he said ushering Al to the front door. Chris knocked.

After about a minute the door opened and there stood the present day Mrs. Eunice Marie Wells Hettinger. Her hair was barely streaked with grey and the same length as Al remembered from his last encounter with her. Though slightly wrinkled with her almost seventy years, no one who ever knew her would mistake the smile and the twinkle in her eye. Her expression darkened a bit when she seemed to recognize Al.

"Oh my goodness! You must be that Al Calavicci. Please come in. Hello Chris, Sage," she said shaking Al's hand and hugging the other two. "Please excuse my staring. Not very polite I must admit, but I do seem to remember you. Yes, most definitely. And that is why I agreed to meet with you, Mr. Calavicci.," explained Eunice. "Please come into the parlor."

"Mother, this is the living room," said Chris quietly as he followed her with his hands in his pockets feeling much younger in the presence of his mother.

"By tradition this would have been the parlor. The house was built in 1818 by Colonel Thomas Dominic. And was owned by several sea captains into the last century. Please be seated," she said offering Al the large settee.

"She is quite the history buff," Chris said to Al.

She smiled slightly and sat on an old small chair across from the three visitors. "Yes, looking for the odd fact in odd places was one of my pastimes. And along those lines, how may I help you, Mr. Calavicci?" she asked. A slight quiver in her voice did indicate a bit of hesitation on her part.

Al glanced down at his hands not knowing what to do with them without his ever present tobacco stick. He nodded, took one breath and then began. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I or rather my wife and I seem to have a problem with this ghost. Moaning, rattling in the pipes, strange green misty forms floating around the house."

"I see. And why do you think it's a spirit that I would be involved with, Mr. Calavicci?" asked Cyfer tilting her head to the right side.

"Because you ...um... discharged a ghost from here with the same features or characteristics. I...um... read about it in my...um... research," the Admiral said looking Cyfer in the eyes without blinking.

Sage's eyes opened wide. "We never wrote about THAT GHOST! Eunice wanted it hush-hush so that her home wouldn't turn into a stop on the local historical society Halloween tour."

"Yes that's true. You see, Mr. Calavicci, I'm an author. Fiona Feinstein. And since my scary stories are for young readers, I didn't want to become an eccentric living in an honest-to-goodness haunted house," she said.

"Most sensible. Of course there was your earlier work with your sisters. That was with the real thing," suggested Al.

"You and I do see things alike Mr. Calavicci. Imagine if they knew that I was a real ghost hunter. I would never live in peace. And I desire and enjoy my solitude here. With all the interest in the occult with the movies and books, I'd have Goth kids camped out on my lawn all year round," she replied. More than once she had been invaded by an overzealous fan in the thirty years she had lived there.

"Very likely," agreed Al.

"And I really haven't been involved with my son and his aunt in their supernatural cases," said Cyfer. "Peace and tranquility is all I desire. But the reason you peeked my interest was I think we have met at one time."

"I've never really been in this area before," denied Al.

"Yes, I am sure of it. At the time the ghost you mentioned was in the dining room of this very house I know I saw you. It was just before we banished him in March of 1970," she said thinking back.

Chris nodded. "That's right, Mom."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hettinger, but at that time I was a POW being held in North Vietnam," admitted Al.

"Really?" asked Chris. "It must have been a terrible experience. I feel for you," said Cyfer patting his knee.

"Well that's was a long time ago, Mrs. Hettinger," said Al who really appreciated the sensitivity of this woman.

"But you see, Mr. Calavicci. I am so very sure I saw you because your name was mentioned as was your ancestor's name. Both were involved in the events that preceded the demise of the spirit," explained a confident Cyfer.

"There is no really proof that I am related to this other Calavicci," stated Al. He sincerely hoped that there was no direct bloodline to the banker that this spirit hated so much.

Cyfer leaned closer to Al looking for some logical answers. "How do you know all these unpublished facts if you weren't there? Mr. Calavicci, really. I've never once met the flesh and blood embodiment of one of our ghostly apparitions. You appeared as clear to me as the ghostly Mr. Van Dusen. Even clearer than him for you actually looked human. That is why I have questions and that is why I agreed to help you today."

Sage and Chris looked closely at Al, as he shifted in his seat. "How do I deal Cyfer? Not only has she seen me, but she is determined to find the truth," he said to himself.

Al knew that he couldn't reveal the presence of the project to people who had been so affected by Sam's leaps. Finally he replied, "There may be connection, but I can't elaborate. I'm sorry."

"Skeletons dancing in your family closet?" she asked cutely.

"I wish it was that easy. There are certain things that I can not discuss and that could have far reaching effects on you and others, Mrs. Hettinger," Al tried to explain.

Cyfer looked over at Sage. "This is most distressing. You show up here opening up old mysteries and can't provide the answers to things that I haven't thought about in decades. You are a man full of secrets, Mr. Calavicci. And solving mysteries is my specialty.

Maybe if we help you out you can help me out too!"

"Then you can take my case?" asked Al.

Sage popped in. "Absolutely! May we have complete access to your house to determine if that is the ghost of Erik van Dusen?"

"Of course since we are not even residing there. The house is yours," replied Al.

"Sure thing, buddy," replied Chris in his Bogey imitation.

Cyfer stood up quickly. "Count me in too!"

"Mom?" Chris asked looking more shocked than surprised.

"My dear Mr. Calavicci, I am at your disposal. If we didn't deal with him thirty-five years ago, then we will now. We always guaranteed our work even if we botched the deghostation of my own home," she said looking a bit embarrassed.

"All of us?" asked Sage.

Cyfer nodded.

"I guess Wells Investigations is off to New Mexico!" Sage said gleefully throwing up her hands.

Four days later on a harsh cool desert morning with the sun barely lighting up the horizon, a van marked Wells Investigations pulled up in front of La Casa Calavicci. Out stepped Sage and Christopher. Another car pulled up bearing a US Government license plate with Sammy Jo Fulton at the wheel. Al, Beth and Cyfer Wells got out of the car.

While Chris was unloading their equipment, Sammy Jo was the first to approach the house. The normally cheerful home kept by Beth Calavicci for her friends, children and grandchildren took on a certain urban eeriness like the spooky house owned by the local eccentric that scared young children. No lights shone from any of the windows though the sound of a loose shutter could be heard banging against the side of the house. Loose leaves and dead plant growth blew across the once neat yard making the house look long deserted.

Sammy Jo was fascinated by the supernatural possibilities within the house while the eeriness of HER house made Beth Calavicci's blood run cold.

Sammy Jo went straight for the front door when Sage called her back. "Wait! We want to scan the house before any human heat or energy radiates inside," Sagebrush called out waving her hands a bit too wildly.

"Really? How?" Sammy Jo asked as her scientific mind ran through the multiple possibilities. Cyfer's ears also perked up because she had been away from the hunt for a LONG time.

"Trade secrets," shot back Chris quickly.

"Chris," replied Cyfer. "These nice people have asked a question and in fact I am more than a bit curious myself."

Sage opened up a big plastic storage container and pulled out a set of goggles. "Remember what happened to a certain cat. But hey, we're family here and you guys seem to be in tune to all this scientific mumbo-jumbo."

Sammy Jo looked a bit peeved as did Cyfer standing right next to her. "My doctorate is in quantum physics and not metaphysics, but I have seen some very strange things in my work..."

"Amen!" shouted out Brother Albert Calavicci.

"...and I would be interested in the type of scanning you do in a project such as this. I also work with our sensors systems especially when we need to adjust our scanning capability to verify the signatures we use all the frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum."

"Sammy JO!" cried out Al.

"The horse is still locked up in the barn, Mother Al," she replied a bit whimsically.

Sage tossed her hair to one side. "What the hell! When it comes to science I'd say we're closer to finding aliens at Roswell rather than some university research center. It's not rocket science. We're checking the infrared and ultraviolet light bands," she said pulling out another goggle set.

Cyfer put her hand on her face. "Really? That's how we started out with Sue. Bless her heart. Only it took all afternoon to develop her photographs. And we only did it in the heat related side," said Piper as her mind waxed nostalgically.

"Infrared. And we do it in real-time," she said snapping on the goggles. "Chris, here are your UV specs."

"Roger that! I'll go around back and check the parameter," he called out as he ran around the house.

"Front of the house clear! Running around the side," he called out from afar.

Al looked impressed at the busy Sage. "She is really into this ghost business a lot more than when you started."

"You bet your buttress. When Sage grabbed onto something she didn't quit till she get's it right! And how would you know what we were like decades ago unless you WERE there?" asked Cyfer as she put her hands on her hips.

Beth looked at Al who was a bit uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot and puffing rather quickly on his cigar.

"My dear little ghost hunter…" started Al.

"Ex-ghost hunter. I merely have an interest in YOUR case," she said a bit miffed.

Al started again. "I cannot divulge my sources which I might add are classified."

A strange look came over Cyfer's face. "A top secret ghost? That is new one and I thought I'd heard it all. Maybe the government is hiding supernatural things from us average citizens. Area 51. Hanger 18. Some other urban legend? Maybe? Um?"

Beth broke in. "Many of our own experiences have been shall I say been quite unique and through our work we came across that ... that... thing that is ruining OUR house." She stopped to catch her breath as Al held her tightly.

"I will tell you what I can about the devil mist just not where the 411 came from, Cyfer. Let me assure you that our information is correct," said Al looking like his high school physics teacher.

"All right. I dug through my files on the history of my house and found my notes on that ghost we used way back in '70. (Which to Al was only last week).The royal pain goblin is named Erik Van Dusen, a sea captain and ship owner in the middle of the nineteenth century. After a bad experience with his partner and financier, Rufus Calavicci, he died a broken man not long thereafter. Most spooks who do hang around have unfinished business here and sometimes, though rarely, we helped them finish it up and then they left on their own accord."

"Ghosts with unresolved conflicts? Bena would have a field day helping them out," mused Beth wondering how you psychologically help a floating apparition.

"Done that a bit myself with Chris here. Spirits are funny that way. No tissues, lots of issues," quipped Sage.

"Ah yea," broke in Cyfer. "Now is Rufus somewhere in your genetic makeup Mr. Calavicci?"

"I've been looking into it and I can't trace him in our family. I believe my grandfather Calavicci came into this country in the 1880's, but I'm not for certain since I was orphaned at an early age. And who knows if he had a brother or someone else already living here."

Sage asked, "Good point. But if you're an orphan, how do you even know?"

"I was left at an orphanage by my parents, but I did have some contact with my family over the years. I had a sister, a couple of uncles, but no current living relatives or their offspring. What about tracing him up to the present?" asked Al.

"Again, no known offspring. But that doesn't mean he can't have a many times removed cousin or a many times great-uncle. And the last of his business concerns went belly up during the Great Depression," said Cyfer going over her old handwritten notes.

"The outside of the house is clean," explained Chris Hettinger. "No sign that he was there recently. Now we go inside, but not all of us," he said indicating the other interested parties.

"So who's on the away mission Captain Kirk?" asked Cyfer cocking her head to one side.

"Sage and me. We don't want to spook him," quickly replied Chris.

"Too late for that, Chris," she said holding back a smile.

Sage jumped in. "Ha! Chris and I have done this many times. If we can't find him hovering around somewhere..."

"Check the drainpipes," broke in Cyfer.

"Right! If he's not anywhere visible then we can all go in to look for him or signs of him or just hang around unto he shows," said Sage explaining their standard modus operendi.

"That could take a while. The Wendell spirit in ArboroCastle in the Thousand Islands only manifested itself once every full moon,"

said Cyfer cutely.

"This guy was there almost every hour on the hour, Ms. Hettinger," said Al. "Thank the Lord."

"Rattling his bones or chains or pipes and scaring the life out of us. All because we have the name Calavicci!" lamented Beth. Even though she wanted the spirit eradicated, being with all these people who dealt them on an everyday basis gave her the creeps.

"A fine name I've always been proud of," retorted Al. "Though I guess in this case it did get us into trouble."

"Then if this house checks out, we'll all take positions and try and find the spook," explained Sage as she flipped down her infrared goggles.

"Cool!" admitted Sammy Jo who had been looking for a diversion from tracking quantum particles and the whereabouts of a daughter in the midst of her Terrible Twos.

Chris and Sage both adjusted their goggles and stepped into the house. Without flipping on the overhead lights they stepped into the living room of La Casa Calavicci. In their red or blue tinted views of the room it appeared well lived in with magazines scattered about the furniture and the two comfortable chairs pulled into the middle of the room to view the large screen television.

Sage started to move around cautiously until she saw a row of books from the second shelf of the open bookcase. The entire row had been thrown from the shelf but landed in a neat row on the floor.

Nearby on the end table next to the television, all of the knick-knacks were scattered about on the table or on the floor next to the table. She pointed to both disturbances as Chris silently nodded.

Behind the table were some dark marks that would have appeared in their natural brown color without the goggles. Chris picked out a small clear box. He reached over, scraped a sample of the strange goo off the wall and then snapped the box shut. With thumbs up they proceeded.

Off to the left went Sage and to the right went her pseudo-nephew. While the living room was fairly neat, the kitchen had either been hastily vacated or thoroughly trashed by a mischievous and vengeful entity. Cupboards were emptied, food from the refrigerator was scattered on the floor, chairs were upended and the kitchen table had been cleaned off with one copious swipe. Picking their way through the mess, the destruction seemed to center around the kitchen sink located under the normally big friendly window.

Chris looked down into the messy sink bottom. "Aha. Some more of that brown goo."

"Yep. It's been playtime in the spirit world," she whispered. "He's not here now."

"Next room!" Chris said motioning to the door. In the dining room and family room, like the kitchen they found some items thrown about and a bit of bleeding through the walls, but no sign of anarchy. The main bathroom was in disarray, but fared better than the kitchen. In the spare bedrooms or the children's bedrooms everything had barely been touched. Where the Calavicci's slept and especially their bathroom had been trashed as only a drugged-up psycho could. Drawers were upended and dumped, bedclothes were thrown across the room, pictures and knickknacks were thrown on the floor and the outside wall looked like remains of the international tobacco spitting contest. Inside the small bathroom even the walls and ceiling had been pulled down. Plaster covered everything that had been thrown onto the floor. Brown goo had spread everywhere. The room smelled of mold, dampness and death.

"My word! I've never seen such a mess from something that was so long dead!" exclaimed Sage. "Most of our spirits are beguine or at worse mischievous."

"I would say that he took out decades of frustration on poor Mr. Calavicci. I still don't see a trace of him. He certainly didn't get tired," lamented Chris shaking his head looking at the remains of the bathroom.

"Some of those drifting cloud thingies still have a good dose of human impatience," commented Sage.

Chris agreed. "And one long memory for grudges. We still have to figure out how to give this spook the boot for good. And save poor Mr. Calavicci."

Sage kicked at the mess in the bathroom and sneered, "I'd say his wife has a few thousand things to say about that too! Turn on all the lights and cautiously break the news to our clients."

"Not the best term, Aunty!" he said talking off his goggles and heading toward the backdoor.

From the outside Al stood holding tightly onto Beth. Through the windows they could see the green and violet lights shining from the vision devices. No strange sounds came from the house. Outside they could hear the usual morning neighborhood sounds AND the beating of their hearts.

Cyfer bit her lip as her own son and her best friend stepped into an unknown situation in an unknown town far away from the familiar.

None of her strangest novels ever gave her the fright or the anticipation that this little scenario did.

A lone figure appeared from around the edge of La Casa Calavicci.

"Coast is clear!" called out Chris. "We can proceed inside."

Beth and Al let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

"Your bedroom and bathroom are pretty trashed though!" admitted Chris.

Al narrowed his eyes looking rather mad while Beth held her breath letting out a small sigh. She took Al's hand tightly and they proceeded inside followed by Sammy Jo and Cyfer.

The kitchen startled Beth, though it didn't worry her too much knowing the worst was coming.

Sammy Jo picked up the chairs and closed the refrigerator door. She approached the sink and then stuck her finger in the brown muck, sniffed it and looked at it very closely.

"Definitely biological in origin. Some sulfur, benzene and mud?" she remarked looking perplexed. "In my lab we can look do a spectral ..."

"Later, dear. My, you're the analytical one," Cyfer said pushing her through the door. "Let's keep moving."

"It's in my genes," Sammy Jo remarked as they heard a gasp and tears from Beth Calavicci.

"MY GOD!" exclaimed Sammy Jo looking at their bedroom.

"Good gracious!" sighed Cyfer. "I have never seen such results from a ghost. Moving things around, displacing some objects, but never in my life did I see such anger released."

"No! My Grandmother O'Dwyer's jewelry box," gasped Beth as she picked up the pieces of the only remembrance she had of her.

"We'll get it fixed, Beth," said Al quietly. "I promise. Along with the rest of the house. Jeez!" he said surveying the damage. "Um, don't look in the bathroom!"

All eyes immediately turned on the next room as the water pipes began to creak and shiver and rattle. An eerie green glow came from the doorway as a misty presence hovered pulsating with energy and then moved toward them.

"Sage get a shot!" called out Chris.

Everyone backed up and took a safer position against the nearest wall. Sammy Jo found herself in the corner with Cyfer. Al and Beth crouched next to her dresser as Sage straightened up and approached the entity as it hovered in the middle of the room.

The same green glowing semi-transparent mass that Al had seen in the Imaging Chamber now hovered near his ceiling.

Sage got her picture as Chris watched it through his infrared goggles.

"Strange shapes and colors. No known composition. It seems to appear and disappears like...I don't know. Like space around it is waving or bending," Chris said throwing out some kind of "sci fi" explanation.

"You almost think that space was warping," replied Sammy Jo looking at the entity. "Fascinating!"

Chris took another cautious step toward it. "It's like I'm looking through a complex funhouse mirror. But even those mirrors keep changing shape. Very weird."

"Then that ghost isn't completely in this dimension. He's wavering between our reality and some other place, time or ethereal existence," suggested Sammy Jo.

"Heaven, hell? That's awfully spiritual for your scientific mind, Sammy Jo," said Al looking at her only for a moment and then back at the thing.

"Motherhood and childbirth give you a look at the bigger picture. Life and immortality, you know," Sammy Jo said as she took a couple of steps toward it.

Cyfer looked on impressed. "We could have used you years ago, Doctor Fulton."

The spook reacted to Sammy Jo's motion as it moved closer to Al and Beth.

"Stay away from me, you crazy Casper! I never did anything to you," called out Al. "Leave us along you creature from the other side. I've seen enough of your kind!" he called out pushing Beth down and then waving his arms at the ghost trying to get him to leave. The object came closer and closer as Al literally sat on Beth to protect her. She tried to pull him away, but Al stood up rocking on his heels trying to bat at it like it was a swarm of mayflies. "Back! Out! Now! Leave us alone, you... you... overgrown reject from a B horror flick! You demon from hell…" he cried out in pain. The entity grabbed or rather descended over Al's arms encasing it in the light green mist.

Strange sensations Al ran up and down his arms. Neither pain nor heat nor pressure, but more like every nerve of his arms tingled with sensitivity. Al waved them as if they were on fire.

"Albert!" called out Beth who could not help him out since she was trapped underneath him. The green specter went from a clear green to a darker uglier shade, became less transparent and began to sparkle. The lights in the room flickered off and on as a chorus of gravel voiced hellhounds could be heard emanating from the formless entity.

Chris and Sammy Jo raced across the room grabbed Al only to be thrown back by the ghost. They landed in a heap on the plush carpet.

Al cried out for Beth to get away.

She pushed Al away from the wall, stood up and grabbed him around the waist. Chris came from behind and then pushed Al from the room with Beth. When they stumbled through the door the thing let loose and stayed in the bedroom as Cyfer and Sammy Jo ducked under it and ran from the house.

Outside Al collapsed on the ground. His breathing was ragged, but he quickly recovered. "Damn that thing!" he said grabbing on tightly to his beloved wife. "You know, it almost felt like half of me was going to leap! That's when all of your senses go wacko!" he said shaking his head and looking shocked.

"Leap?" asked Cyfer. "Never heard that reaction before! What are you talking about?"

Sammy Jo looked at the dazed Al and then did a nervous Beckett-like laugh and recovery. "Leap. You know, jump. He felt like part of his body was going to jump off the other part of his body."

"Is that right, Mr. Calavicci?" asked Sage intently.

"Yea. No. What?" asked Al.

"We're taking you back to Donna's or to the hospital. No physical damage that I can see. It's all psychosomatic!" said a determined Beth as she helped him up.

"Or just plain psychic!" retorted Sage.

Cyfer thought for a moment. "Interesting that you say that. I've never seen as vicious a spook before. We really need to know what he wants!"

"MY HUSBAND!" yelled Beth. "That is terribly obvious even to me!"

Chris nodded. "Very true. He hid himself until Mr. C showed up. We'll protect you!"

"And we will, but that's not the long term problem. What are this wacko ghost's motives? Why here and now? How did he get here? And HOW can we push his astral butt into the next dimension?" said Cyfer very passionately.

"Now that's the Cyfer I remember!" explained Sage.

"And to answer that question we need a spiritual means of communication. A telephone operator to the other side!" she said holding up a finger.

"CeCe!" exclaimed Cyfer and Sage together.


	7. Chapter 7

In the fanciest bed and breakfast on the outskirts of VicksburgMississippi, an older woman sniffed into her handkerchief as she stood beside her bed watching the motionless shell that had yesterday housed her husband. A few tears ran down her cheek as she pulled the covers up over the silent man laying there. Then her tears turned into a torrent as she wept in her hands. She wept for her husband. She wept for their marriage. And she wept for her future. How could she live without her husband and friend of forty-six years? Her beloved Stony.

CeCe sat next to the bed as her tears lessened. She thought about how they met way back during the time of Camelot when he desperately needed their services. How she had contacted Stony's long dead relative and helped him move on after they found the Confederate gold still hidden in secret tunnel after a hundred years. And that wonderful night he proposed to her under the magnolias here at Pemberton Oaks. And the life they had together. Those wonderful, wonderful times created by her love for life and his gentle Southern manner. Even though from Chicago, she loved playing the Southern hostess at their bed and breakfast. And then they took out a mortgage on his family estate to renovate the old Dixie Hotel downtown. Tourists came from all over to sit under the magnolias and ride the paddle wheelers on the mighty Mississippi. All was wonderful except they were never blessed with children. Life was peaceful and happy until six months ago when he was diagnosed with liver cancer. Despite a very short prognosis, Stony held on for six long months and last night without a sound he passed on. The one spirit next to her own that she didn't want to go over to the other side and he had gone voluntarily.

She sat up, pulled down her immaculate suit and picked up the phone to call the parlor. There was so much to do.

Following the departure of the hearse, she looked out as it drove away down the tree lined driveway. CeCe went back to the kitchen to make herself a cup of chamomile tea. She made it herself knowing that she would be on her own more frequently from now on. Pemberton Oaks was to be turned over to the local historical society as Stony wished. CeCe would have the large apartment they shared at the Dixie Hotel from which she could rein as the local matron and benefactress. She had many friends in Vicksburg, but they always seemed so old-fashioned. Not that they weren't about her age, however CeCe never felt that old. She could look at the calendar and look in the mirror and still see that even though the years had passed in her heart she still felt twenty-five. No thirty-five. Maybe forty at the outside, but she didn't feel or want an "active lifestyle" in an "up-and-coming" leisure community. She still looked very cute, with the same striking eyes and figure that hadn't changed that much in the last forty years.

Through her cloud of thoughts she heard the kitchen phone tinkle loudly.

"Marsha Mae, could you please get that?" she called out until she realized that she had sent everyone home.

CeCe got up and answered in a near whisper. "Pemberton Oaks. Filly Clements speaking," she said using her local nom-de-plume.

Sage was on the other end of the line. "CeCe? Is that you? Of course it's you. Believe it or not we're in New Mexico. Would you believe it? And have we got one wild ghost story to tell you and it really, really needs your expertise. Cyfer is here too!"

"Cyfer," she said almost choking. "Cyfer is there? Can I speak to her, pleaseeeeeee!"

"Sure," Sage said cheerfully. "Here you are."

"CeCe! How you doing, sis?" she asked full of cheerfulness and the excitement of the chase which made her feel years younger.

"Stony died last night!" she said straight out.

"CECE! My Lord. You must be devastated, sweetie. I'm so sorry!" she said. "Stony died last night," Cyfer said to Sage.

"Oh my God!" Sage gasped.

"How are you holding up?" Cyfer asked CeCe.

"I'm on automatic pilot right now. Too much to do. And kind of lost," she said. "Wish you were here."

"The Wells genie is going to grant your request. I'm going to book the next plane out of here, sis," she replied. CeCe needed her and she wasn't going to let her baby sister down. "That'll be nice. I need to see a friendly face. The funeral will be day after tomorrow. Most everything is already arranged. I've still got all these guests to worry about," CeCe sighed.

"Turn the house over to your staff. You need time to morn, sister dear," said Cyfer as she looked over at the rest of the Scooby team. "Look, I'll call you back as soon as I've made the arrangements. OK?"

"OK!" she whimpered.

"Take care. See you soon. Love ya always," said Cyfer.

"Same here. And th-thanks. Bye," CeCe said so quietly that Cyfer could barely hear her.

"Bye, sweetie," she said as she snapped close Sage's cellphone.

"Damn. Poor, poor little CeCe. That man meant everything to her. I KNEW something was wrong, but they never said a thing about it," said Cyfer shaking her head.

"Stony was very proud," lamented Sage

"Till the end. Well, I have to leave this little investigation and fly to over to Vicksburg," Cyfer said a bit too cheerfully.

Al came in "Leaving? Why?"

Cyfer pushed her hair back. "My sister's husband died."

"That would be Thomas Jackson Clements," said Al thinking hard without the help of Ziggy.

"Now how did you know all that? You must have know us from somewhere, Mr. Calavicci," she said, "…and I want to know or at least will find out. Later."

"I can not really say..." stammered Al.

"Like where else you came across ghosts before. The average person never sees or at least doesn't recognize those otherworldly spirits that pass through their lives," explained Cyfer.

"Again. In my line of business I see a lot of strange things," replied Al.

"Working for the Navy?" asked Cyfer. "Where? At the Bermuda Triangle Naval Base?"

"Retired actually, but still working for the good ol' U. S. of A." said Al proudly.

"Like in Roswell? You do live in New Mexico! No? Well, that's not the current problem. I am still going to help you, but my family needs me at the moment. We will still get your ghost, but I have to fly to VicksburgMississippi for a funeral," she said sadly. "And to comfort one very distraught sister," Cyfer thought.

"Pemberton Oaks," exclaimed Al Calavicci.

"Right again, sailor boy," piped in Cyfer. "And why?"

"We did a background check on your company," replied Al cautiously.

Cyfer shook her head. "I doubt that. Why would you be checking on the whereabouts of employees who haven't been with the firm for decades? Forget it for now. Anyway where is a computer? I need to book a flight," she asked.

"Are all of you going?" asked Al.

"Not unless they want to stay here. Nice as it is, I prefer greener climates," remarked Cyfer.

Al lit up and then inquired, "Since you plan to return how about a counter proposal? I have an old flying buddy who has an interest in a small airline over in Flagstaff. I bet you he'd let me fly all of you there personally. AND then back here when you're ready to proceed. Hopefully shortly thereafter."

"A pilot too? I'm impressed. Thought all you Navy guys sailed the seven seas. Sage, Chris? What do you think?" she asked sounding almost chipper.

"Fine with me. I'd really liked Stony," replied Sage. "And it might take a little personal appeal to get CeCe to come back here so soon after..."

Chris interjected, "Sage is right. Let's do it. I want to pay my last respects to Uncle Stony. Aunt CeCe is pretty cool."

Cyfer shook her head. "Cool? Yea, like a red hot chili pepper! Work your magic, Mr. Calavicci. Now where can I get something to wear to a funeral? Coming Sage?"

At 30,000 feet over Hot Springs, Arkansas Al Calavicci pushed a back from the controls and removed his headset. Stretching he nearly touched the roof of the cabin ceiling of the brand new Boeing S450. The sky was a perfect sapphire blue as the clouds raced by him at 560 miles an hour.

"Thanks for the chance, Firefly. I haven't logged any airtime for two years," sighed Al as he pulled out a cigar. "Damn, I miss the thrill of flying!"

"No problem, Benny. I haven't seen you in that... Hey! Put that coffin nail back in your flight suit, Admiral," he insisted.

"No matches. No light'em. I promise, Firefly. It just feels good in the hand," Al replied rolling it between his fingers.

"OK! That's all you better do with it. Like on the _Constellation_? NASA would have really freaked then," he laughed recalling their clandestine Apollo 19 mission. "You must have gone through a hundred of those little dowling sticks!"

"One little pleasure that never made that one giant leap. Can't even do it on the space station. Sigh! I tell you this bird handles like a dream for a plane wearing its civvies. How did you ever pull this one off the line?" Al asked as Firefly took over the controls.

"Never been on the line. She's brand new and needs another 100 hours flight time before the FAA will let Sun Air carry passengers in it. So your timing was perfect and I needed to get away from my wife's house projects and charity meetings. You have it right! NEVER retire!" he declared pushing on the controls and ascending another 2000 feet.

"Yea. I have still have excitement I must admit. Just too much lately," he said sighing heavily.

"And your friends needed the lift?" he asked putting the plane back on autopilot.

"New acquaintances. Advisory capacity really. And they were in the middle of a job," said Al.

"How do they fit into all that high level science you work with and don't really understand?" asked Firefly flashing Al a big "I know you" smile.

"I don't. Well, you're right. But I've got good people and they keep everything running in tiptop condition," explained Al.

"Still tip top secret?" he asked winking at Al.

"Yep. Things that would curl your hair. If you still had any," replied Al looking up at his follicle-challenged flight buddy.

"Like Nurse Heather back at Patuxent?" he reminded Al. Al and Firefly had been together through most of their Navy pilot training days and on the _Hornet_.

"A very nice lady. With a bottom that was tops," quickly remarked Al as a very nice picture filled his mind. "But you were dating the lovely Beth O'Dwyer at that time," he reminded Al.

Al rolled his cigar between two fingers a bit nervously. "Unfortunately I still had a few wild oats to sow, but that was …um," said Al. He could recall the toosh, but not the date of the romantic encounter.

"1961. Pushing half a century ago, fella. Though as long as I can fly, I'm going to live forever," he cried out finishing with a hearty chuckle.

"Um. This is a funeral shuttle flight, Firefly," Al reminded his former wingman and astronaut.

Firefly heard air traffic control contact him. "Roger, Little Rock. I'm handing off. Go tell your friends we'll be in at Vicksburg Municipal in 35 minutes if I take her up to 45,000."

"Just straight and narrow, hotshot. Let's not scare these already tense people with any acrobatics. And you can include me. Keep 'em flying! Later," said Al as he unbuckled himself and walked back into the passenger cabin.

Al and Beth rode hand-in-hand up to Pemberton Oaks. She had come with him since he didn't wish to leave her alone until the spiritual menace had vacated THEIR home. Even after all these years Al still remembered his earlier ghostly experience in this very house. And another reason was the death of CeCe's husband, Stony Clements. Sam had been him in that earlier time. Sam had leaped in, saved two of the Wells sisters and as an inadvertent consequence set this couple on a forty plus year journey together. And his death was a connection to his friend Sam. A very personal connection since at one time Sam had touched this place, this house and all the lives of those now attending the last rites of Thomas Jackson "Stonewall" Clements.

After passing through the canopy of trees covering the driveway, the taxi pulled up to the front doorway which was framed by several 25 foot high tall white pillars. A black wreath hung on the door as an eerie hushed feeling surrounded the house.

"Such a lovely home," sighed Beth. "It must be over a hundred years old."

"Built in 1834. Originally 3400 acres. Five generations of Clements have lived here," replied Cyfer quietly. Along with her head for figures, she had a passion for architecture and the history around buildings that appealed to her. And she also loved visiting her sister, though it was not nearly often enough. "And a very warm and loving rest stop. But sadly that seems all gone. Gone with the wind."

Cyfer lead them up to the front door and into the large main hall. A huge circular staircase wound up along the circular wall to the second story. Only a small desk next to the front door even hinted that this was a hotel and not a great Southern mansion. Antiques lined the walls. A large colorful wooden sign was mounted on the banister welcoming all visitors to Pemberton Oaks.

Al could still see Sam coming down the stairs as they chased the ghost of Colonel Clements though the house. He shook his head as the memories returned still bright and colorful and this time very, very solid.

A pretty forty-ish woman in a dark suit came from through the dining room doorway. Mrs. Marjory Sanderson was the manager of Pemberton Oaks.

"Why Mrs. Hettinger. Miss Peterson. Thank you for coming. It is a sad, sad day," she said shaking her head and then embracing them. She smiled at Chris, Al and Beth and welcomed them with a voice that sounded like Scarlet O'Hara herself was in their presence.

"Welcome to Pemberton Oaks. All of our guests have departed. There are rooms waiting for each of you. Mz. Clements is receiving guests in the parlor. This way please," she said ushering them into the next room.

"Guests? Now we're guests?" Cyfer whispered to Sage.

In a room draped with long curtains and Antebellum furniture on a small settee sat the mistress of the house, CeCe. She was in a long flowing traditional Southern dark blue gown that was still a bit low cut for mourning.

Even after all the years Al still found her flowing with sex appeal. She had not aged; she had come into her own. Standing up CeCe presented them her hand.

"Thank you for coming. Dear Sir. Loving Eunice. Sweet Sage. It is wonderful to see you all. Stony would have appreciated you honoring him with your presence," she said in a sweet Southern accent.

Cyfer approached CeCe, looked up into the sky and then shot her a look that would freeze the whole room. "Save the saccharine for the tourists, SIS! We both grew up on the Southside of Chicago. Remember?" she asked looking a bit peeved.

CeCe blushed slightly and then broke into a big grin. "Hey there, Cyfer," she said in a flat Midwestern accent. "The top 400 of Vicksburg have been stopping by all day. Stony was a big man in this town. And this was kinda expected. It's real good to see you, sis!" she said now crying in her arms. "And you to pseudo-sis!" she said taking Sage's hand while never letting go of Cyfer.

"You have my sympathies, CeCe," replied Sage. "Stony was a quite a guy!"

She stood up straight and wiped her eyes. "Thank you. But it was really a relief for him. He was in so much pain that last month," she said as she tried to reclaim her composure.

"And not a word about it," complained Cyfer.

CeCe shook her head. "Stony wanted it that way. It was a shock for his family and all of VICKSBURG."

"And you? How are you doing?" asked Sage.

"Better than I was. Just the lost part hasn't left me. And Chris. Thank you for coming," she said hugging her nephew.

"Good to see you, Aunt Filly," she replied.

"Filly, Felicity," Cyfer mentioned to Al. "That was her hubby's creation. Always wanted to take her out to the track every time I heard that! This is Al and Beth Calavicci."

"Well thank you for flying them down. I hear you have a spook to deal with," she said more professionally than conversationally. "These guys will take care of you I can assure you."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you. My sympathies," said Beth for both of them. Al nodded.

"Thank you. Mrs. Sanderson will show you to your rooms. Please explore the grounds. They are quite extensive. And dinner will be at six as always. She sat down, smoothed out her bellowing skirt and then sat up returning to her Southern posture.

"Come on guys!" said Cyfer.

"Explore the grounds?" asked Al.

"Well, there isn't a video game room in this house. Nor a single plasma television nor DVD player. This mansion is strictly nineteenth

century. Really charming though a bit too quiet and slow for some people. That's why CeCe had to escape to their 21st century apartment downtown from time to time. Personally I like the rustic atmosphere," explain Cyfer quietly looking around the high entrance foyer. "Without the ghosts, of course!"

Al whispered to Beth, "You know that was the room that Sam first leaped into," he said as she hushed him.

"We'll get settled and you can check on us, later," replied Beth as she elbowed Al.

"You bet. We're just down the hall two doors," chirped in Sage as they waved goodbye.

Inside the room Beth began to unpack. They had a medium size canopy bed and an armoire for their clothes. No closet, but a small bathroom built out of the wall. The whole theme of their room seemed to be a very green early spring morning somewhere along the mighty Mississippi.

Closing the doors of the armoire Beth turned to Al. "I still don't see why we're staying. Firefly has a cozy room at the Hyatt with a whirlpool downtown. We never met her husband, Albert," she said raising her voice ever so slightly.

"You may have never known him, but I at least met his hologram. He did visit us in the Waiting Room. As for Firefly, he's either working on a date for tonight or is making a killing on one of those gambling boats on the river. Either one or the other and he's in heaven," Al said as he pulled out his cigar. "Let's go out on the balcony."

"This is place is beautiful. And Sam leaped here a long time ago," said Beth taking his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. The dark green trees and slightly lighter green lawn spread out in front of them. Though maybe not the most romantic place, the view was breathtaking to the tired Beth. She may have no home at the moment, but she still had her arm wrapped tightly around her husband. And wherever he was … Well, that was home. Almost.

Al lit up and then took several deep puffs. "Beth, darling. Twice I've come across this guy Stony. Once with Sam playing him and once as a casual observer to our leap. Since Sam played him he's a part of our history and more importantly part of Sam's. Or is it Sam was part of him? I don't know. Right now it seems like the final chapter in one of Sam's leaps."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked slightly confused.

"There's nothing I can put my finger on. The end of his life. The end of someone we helped or someone who helped us. Part of a family we've saved and had a great affect on. Closure on my part or their part. Maybe just providing some comfort to the people who are helping us now. It's lingering in the back of my mind. I just can't put any words to it, Beth. I HAD to be here," he said loudly stomping his foot.

"And we had nowhere else to go at the moment. They can't finish our pest problem until afterwards," Beth reminded him. She had wanted to get away from their problem, but a funeral was not the destination she had in mind.

Al rolled the cigar in his hand. "Maybe. But for the most part I figured I had to be here for Sam. Let's go for a walk down by the river," suggested Al.

"I'd like that," sighed Beth.

"It was good to get away," Beth Calavicci thought. "Especially with him."

After a very crowded funeral and a smaller graveside service, a few close friends gathered for a memorial service in the parlor. Most everyone stood up to say something. Al and Beth just sat and admired all that he had done before Sam and leaped into him and everything that happened afterwards. If Sam's leap had failed, he would have had a much lesser impact on life running a tour agency down in New Orleans according to Ziggy. He had abandoned his haunted home after the death of Cyfer and Sue. Instead he married CeCe and became a pillar of the community and a credit to Sam's "making thing's right" policy.

Following the service, CeCe had her cook whip up some late night omelets since they had been on the run all day. Around the big kitchen table where her family and not her guests usually sat were Al, Beth, Sage, Cyfer and CeCe.

"Now we have to get back to the Calavicci's. Their poor house is still overrun by my old demon," lamented Cyfer.

CeCe took another bite. "I still don't see how it got to New Mexico," she said. "And where it's been these last umpteen years."

"It's only Al's reassurances and an awful lot of knowledge about it," said Cyfer. "HE won't tell me how. Big Government secret!" she said in a mocking whisper.

"As long as it vacates MY house, send it away. ANYWHERE," exclaimed Beth waving her hands toward the nearest door.

"Just not back to MY HOUSE. Got rid of it back during the Apollo era," she said half kidding.

"Very neat spacecraft," remarked Al.

"You flew them? You were an astronaut?" asked Sage as her eyes opened wide.

"Candidate. Never flew," he said though he had flown on the secret Apollo 19 mission.

"Very neat," exclaimed Chris. "You certainly get around, Mr. Calavicci."

"I see how the name matches, but you're clear across the country, unless he used the spiritual internet," suggested CeCe. "A celestial Lojack or a G.H.O.S.T.L.Y G.P.S."

"And he waited a long time. You said yourself you were being held in Vietnam at that time," Cyfer reminded the group.

"And a POW too? My nephew is right. You certainly do get around Al," said CeCe.

"That's partly where I get my experience and insight," replied the Admiral.

"I don't know of anytime that we ever failed our clients," recalled CeCe. "You're our scribe, Doctor Watson. What sayeth thee?"

"Well. I have published some of your old cases. I gotta a lot of time on my hands at the office. And your record was whatever and ZERO against these ghosts," reported the soothsayer Sage.

"See! And we did fail in MY OWN HOUSE," Cyfer said slightly peeved.

"We were a few years out of practice, my dear," said CeCe reminding her tense sister.

Cyfer threw up her hands. "It's like riding a bicycle, CeCe. You never forget!"

"Demon busting? A ride in the park? I don't think so. If my old memory serves me I guess by now you were trying to determine the reasons behind his haunt especially since he seems to be such a testy spirit," said CeCe trying to help out her sisters.

"Your ghost here almost tried to kill me!" Cyfer reminded us.

"And Stony saved you! But to continue, if you need to take him out I guess an old spiritual advisor could help out," replied CeCe.

"We were calling you about that when we got the news about Uncle Stony," replied Chris showing more than his usual deductive reasoning.

"So it wasn't a social call? Need help from the old seer, I see. Though I am kidding abut the old part," she emphasized. "Young at heart here. Now and forever!" she said almost breaking into an old standard.

Sage bobbed her head in agreement. "We really need the help, half-sis."

CeCe pierced her lips, looked up and then around and then roughly in the direction to the Clements family plot. "Gonna be awful lonely around here. Maybe I'll travel a bit. I hear New Mexico is lovely this time of year."

Beth was as about to disagree with her about the weather, but decided not to.

Chris jumped up. "Then you'll help us?"

"Don't be so surprised. This isn't the first time, my darling nephew. Remember us in LA and then that time outside of Cleveland. I haven't lost my touch. Just MY HUSBAND. May he finally rest in peace," she sighed loosing her slightly better mood.

"Mrs. Clements. CeCe. We have to takeoff by 1000 hours, that's 10 AM tomorrow for home," said Al.

"Fine. I think I'll call it a night. Maybe cry on my pillow a bit. I will be ready bright and early in the morning, Mr. Calavicci. I look forward to the trip," she said still looking in the direction of the cemetery.

"Need any company?" asked Cyfer as Sage joined her.

"No. I'm fine," she said smiling and standing up. After two steps to the door she turned around holding up one finger. "Though on the other hand, a little sisterly support might be in order. I'd think I'd LOVE the company."

"Make that two?" asked Sage.

"ALL my sisters," she shot back "Good night all!" she said nearly sparkling.

Al and Beth were startled by the change in attitude of the recent widow.

"You see, she gave up her sisters when she married Uncle Stony. Now he's gone. Maybe she just wants her family back," said Chris thinking out loud.

Al remembered that if Sam had not saved Cyfer, she would have been all alone all these years.

Beth sighed and took Al's hand tightly. "Family. That's what it's all about!"

Dressed in a long black suit still mourning her decreased husband, CeCe sat in Al and Beth's bedroom. Space had been cleared so she could sit and think. Think and reach out to the spirit. The rest of the ghost hunting crew watched from the hallway. Al, Beth, Cyfer, Sage, Chris and Sammy Jo all crushed together in the hallway waiting and watching for something to happen. With the exception of Sammy Jo and Beth, everyone believed she had the capability to do it, but would she be able to help this nefarious spiritual entity?

CeCe had honed her skills over the years and instead of wandering the site looking for some recognition or sign she had evolved into a caller of spirits. This was not the sideshow crystal ball reading charlatan, but a true conduit between the real world of believers and nonbelievers and the spiritual world of the afterlife. But even more important was that the spirit she wished to contact must want to be contacted.

She waved her hand in front of her in never-ending figure eights trying to feel for any psychic vibrations. Her eyes were closed gently as her mind reached out into the room and the spiritual ether surrounding her.

"Erik! Erik! Do you hear me?" she chanted over and over again. Ten, twenty, thirty times she chanted. For twenty minutes she continued, never tiring, never wavering. Finally her head turned slightly to the left as if she heard something. No one in the hallway noticed anything unusual.

"Erik! Erik! Is that you?" asked CeCe raising on eyebrow, but never opening them. "Come to me. We wish to speak with you. Erik, Erik van Dusen. Come to me. Speak to me. Come to me. Speak to me," she continued for another ten minutes.

Beth had had enough. She excused herself and left CeCe's cheering section. "This is getting us nowhere," she said quietly to herself. Taking four steps from the group she got a sudden chill that she recognized. The green floating mist came toward her and passed through her. She yelped as the others turned toward her.

"Beth!" exclaimed Al as the mist came straight at them. They pulled back into the hallway as the mist passed by giving everyone except Cyfer a cold chilly shiver.

"All right you crazy green fogbound ghost. Give us a sign so we can point you to the exit," Cyfer cried out loud.

Al grabbed onto Beth and took her back to their hallway. "Easy, sweetie," he said quietly to her.

The green mist entered the bedroom and began to circle CeCe. The temperature in the room plummeted as eyes a surprised look came to CeCe's face.

"There you are!" she said suddenly and then returning to her more mystical jargon, "Erik, you have honored us with your presence."

Al mumbled something that was best not repeated to the ghost about true honor.

"Speak to us, Erik. Tell us of your needs and wants. Tell us of the reason you reside in the House of Calavicci," she said repeating it twice.

Sammy Jo's mouth turned up as she had a strange thought that that sounded like the best Italian restaurant in San Francisco.

CeCe continued, "Speak to us spirit of Erik van Dusen. Why are you here? Why do you…"

"Pain. Much pain!" came a creepy voice that startled even the psychic herself. "P-p-p-ain!" he moaned.

"And why are you in pain, Erik?" she asked.

"Sorrow. Long, long sorrow," the voice creaked sounding like the mildew and goo smell that permeated the room.

"Pain and sorrow. Sorrow and pain!" wailed the spirit.

Cyfer gritted her teeth. "We know. Now get on with it! Why pain for crying out loud?"

"Pain. Pain for the young ones. Distress for the young ones," he moaned. The mist seemed to pulsate as it spoke growing lighter and darker.

Beth shot in. "Then his kids are in pain? Physical or emotional?" she asked.

"No. Pain from within. Pain from the spirit," he answered. "Erik is in pain."

"Anybody know how to get Advil over the other side?" asked Cyfer. "OK. He's not doing well because of his emotional involvement with his kids. Can he be more specific?"

Al agreed, "Yes. How do we help him out? Jeez, not one of my Navy buddies would believe this. I still don't think I do. CeCe get into it. What will cure his …um wandering around my house."

"No livelihood. No dowry. Nothing left for them. Gone. All gone. Woe to the little ones," he moaned circling around and around the bedroom.

"Sounds like the poor thing is worried that he couldn't provide for his family. That's kind of sweet," said Sage strangely.

"Sweet? Since when did monetary matters transcend death? Love and emotions are usually what drive them to try and stay in this life. Not the almighty dollar, though it does comes in pretty handy here," admitted the logical Cyfer.

"So we need to prove that we can pay off his descendents?" Al checked his comm link. "Ziggy how much would Erik von Dusen's business concern be worth in today's dollars?"

"48 billion dollars, Admiral!" replied Ziggy unemotionally.

"Who that hell was that?" asked Cyfer the accountant.

"Our business associate connected us up to our calculating computer, Cyfer," explained Al. "Nothing, but an overpriced overcomplicated

calculator."

"That was one hell of a fast present value determination since the shipping business has changed so much in 150 years," remarked Cyfer who had been the firm's accountant. "I could have used him years ago."

"Yea, ain't that a kick in the butt. As to paying off the ghost, nix to the blackmail." remarked Al. "No one is gong to come up with that much moola."

Sage suggested, "CeCe, let him know that all of his "little ones" have moved on and so must he can do the same."

CeCe nodded her head. "Erik. Erik. Your children are no longer in this life. They have gone to THEIR rewards. Follow them. Join them. Find them and you will find peace," she said joyfully cheering him on.

The mist of the spirit began to pulsate growing darker and moaning even louder. The atmosphere in the bedroom grew even more agitated.

"No more. No more little ones. Woe and pain and pain and woe. No more. No more," he continued to moan without stopping.

"That didn't help much," said Cyfer. "He is getting even…"

"Madder!" interjected Al. "OK. Now asked him what will make him move on."

CeCe posed the question.

The entity froze. There was a long pause. "Death!" was his reply.

"To whom?" asked Sage as Al shivered.

"Death to Calavicci!" was the even more chilling reply.

Beth almost fainted as Al closely looked at his nemesis. Beth recovered and spoke, "Albert. Come on. Let's go. This is too dangerous," though she really didn't completely believe a threat from a moving green mist, but she wasn't going to lose Al.

"Hold it baby!" replied Al.

The green thingy hovered near him, but didn't disturb him.

"I'm not being scared from my own domicile." cried Al "Hey Casper. Hit the road!"

Cyfer comforted her sister. "Mr. Calavicci. It might be best if you let us deal with it."

CeCe sat up and held her head "I agree. He was just so intense. Most ghosts' emotions are only shadows of their life counterparts. His was strong and then grew in intensity."

"That was when he learned of his kids' fate," suggested Sage.

"Yea. That's it. Now we have to get rid of him before he turns into a full-fledged poltergeist," explained Cyfer.

"He already has the bed shaking and chain rattling part down. I'm more worried about him doing worst stuff. You never know what they are capable of," replied CeCe.

Al interrupted. "Well, I'm only a mere mortal, Cyfer. He can follow me all the rest of my days."

"True," admitted Cyfer.

"Albert, I don't want to have to deal with that threat," said Beth slowly.

"So let him get to me and find out I'm not the same guy," suggested Al.

"That won't work. Van Dusen was already dead when Rufus died in 1887," explained Cyfer looking through her notes.

"Maybe. But I'm willing take a chance," said Al. "Anything to finish this business!"

"No! You will not, love!" exclaimed Beth as the walls began to rattle

as more goo oozed from the walls.

CeCe perked up. "I sense an increased level of discontent!"

"He's getting even madder," translated Al as CeCe nodded and agreed with him.

"Can't we try and charm him?" asked Sage. "He's a man."

"No, he lost that 150 years ago. All that's left seems to be his emotions," said CeCe. "Pure raw energy."

"And a pretty good moving capability. Distance, chairs, goo!" quipped Cyfer.

"CeCe?" asked Al. "Help me talk to him directly. Please."

She sighed heavily. "We can try, but he could also get rough or even injure or kill you."

Al took a defensive stance. "I'm not running from a fight. Never had. Never will!" said Al pursing his lips.

"But you never stood in front of a train either, Albert" suggested Beth.

"But the train never left the tracks and followed me for eternity either. I went through hell before and this is not going to deter me, Elizabeth!" exclaimed Al who could not be moved from his chosen path.

"Hell?" asked Cyfer nervously.

Beth replied, "He was held by the North Vietnamese for six years! Two of those he spent in solitary confinement. Never broke him though he does still have nightmares."

Al approached CeCe. "Now what do I do?"

"Never led someone through this before. I've always been the AT&T thingy. Now take my hands. Let's sit down," CeCe said as the ghost hovered over them. The room seemed to grow darker.

"Albert. Be careful," said Beth quietly.

Al looked up. "That's my middle name!"

"You don't have one!" she retorted.

"We'll open up our minds. Can I call you, Albert?" she asked.

"Al! Make it short especially in a crisis. Saying Calavicci takes too long and could kill me," he said taking her hands.

"Very well, Al. Hold on tightly. Open up your mind to new possibilities. Open it to the spirit. Open it to another world, another existence. Open it up to a universe of possibilities and probabilities. Al. Can you see that?" she asked.

"Not too hard," said Al who had been looking through other times and dimensions for years with Quantum Leap.

"Lose this existence," she said soothingly. "Leap from this place with your mind."

"But don't go too far," sighed Beth as she held onto Sammy Jo's hand tightly.

"I think I feel it. I see something. More. I see more than this room. It is opening up," exclaimed a surprised Al.

"I feel it too. We are leaving, Al," she said soothingly.

"I see you and me. We're floating over and looking down. I see everyone including me!" exclaimed an astonished Admiral Al Calavicci.

Now Al was no longer speaking. He was in a deep trance to his friends, but he was in constant contact with CeCe who was floating beside him.

"Whoa. This is great. I'm flying! Well, not flying, but as close as I can without a plane!" he said joyfully.

"We are hovering between life and death, Al. Between his world and ours," she explained.

"Where's death?" asked a nervous Calavicci looking around for the guy with the scythe.

"Nearby. Not visible, but close by. Can you sense the captain?" she asked.

"Yea. A hell of lot of pent up frustration," admitted Al.

"Anger? Feel the anger?" asked CeCe.

Al reached out and found the feelings of the entity. "Good lord. And it's all directed toward me!"

The mind of the ghost got closer. Al could feel the increase in emotions.

"Listen Erik. Listen to this man. He is a good man," explained CeCe solemnly.

"No more talk. I must act!" the ghost said.

"How?" asked Al.

"I must have revenge. Revenge on the Calavicci," he yelled in the ethereal world.

"That's not me. But why are you coming after me?" asked the Admiral.

"To atone for the sins," he moaned.

"Erik. This is not the man. He is long gone. Like your children he has moved on. And if you move on then you can see them all," explained CeCe.

"All I share with him is his last name, um.. Erik," he said not sure how to address a ghost. "Sir Spirit?" he thought.

"No! Much too long. Need revenge. Need rest," he sighed.

"If it's a holiday you're looking for I heartily recommend heaven. Eternal rest, friends, peace. Don't forget all that peace!" said Al doing his best sales pitch.

"Erik. Go to your eternal rewards. You have had pain too long. Try rest," she pleaded.

"Read my mind, ghosty! I'm not the one. I don't know this slime ball that hurt you," replied Al.

"No. Must have mind settled and then rest," he approached Al who mentally moved back. He reached out, but only to look where the entity was.

"Can't you see? There must be hundreds of Calavicci's in the country. Thousands throughout the world. And they are all unrelated or don't knew of their great-great-grandfather's business dealings. They are NOT at fault. I am NOT at fault," Al pleaded with the green apparition.

CeCe continued, "…and YOU are NOT at fault. What happened

was long ago. The world has moved on. You must move on, Erik. Let go and forget. And then you can have your rest!"

"First no pain. Revenge. And then rest," he announced ever so menacing.

"Erik, I can't help you. And my death would neither solve your problem nor bring back you or your kids. Too much time has passed. Just like you passed away, so did the world you knew. Not just the people, but things and even ideas have changed," explained Al cautiously.

"And Erik, you don't have to forgive, just forget. No one is left to forgive. You have worried for them. Now worry no more," suggested CeCe.

"Nooooooooo, mustn't forget," he moaned.

"You won't be forgotten. Your family won't be forgotten. We're here," replied CeCe.

"Yes," Al said. "We'll remember FOR YOU!"

"The world will hear. The world will know. Our storyteller will spread the word, Erik. People will remember!" she said sounding joyful.

The reverberations in the air seemed to die down. "Not be forgotten?" he asked them.

"Yes, Erik. The world will not forget. I promise!" she said.

"And that goes doubly for me, Erik. I will make sure it's broadcasted or rather posted … like in your time…everywhere. On trees. Poles, barns, stores, churches," Al said describing how the word got out in his day. The Internet wouldn't mean much to him.

"Remember, will be remembered?," he said without a bit of pain or anger.

"Now I feel peace," said CeCe. "Peace and joy!"

"Yea, I feel it too!" exclaimed Al. "Is everything OK?"

"Erik, are you finished here? Can you now move on to heaven?" asked CeCe.

The spirit didn't reply. There was silence as he started to drift away. Further and further he went from where CeCe and Al floated in the ether.

"It is done. We must go Al. It is time," said CeCe. "Follow me! Follow my mind!"

"I even feel peaceful myself," said a joyous Al.

"You feel his joy. He feels your relief. The feelings here are a cumulative product of all those present. And because of his disturbance we were all affected. Time to go. Now drift down Al. Seek out your body," she said as they floated down still holding on together.

"Like all women before me," he quipped feeling better.

Al went down and opened his eyes. He let go of CeCe's hands as she also awakened.

"It's done. It's over," he said stretching the creaks from his aching bones. Reaching up he embraced his wife. "It's OK, baby. He's gone. We have reclaimed our home!"

She sighed and looked up. The green mist drifted away through the wall leaving one last brown patch.

CeCe stood up and looking very dignified announced, "He has fled. The house is cleansed."

"Time will truly tell," replied Al.

"Thank God," sighed Beth. "And thanks to all of you!"

Cyfer looked perky. "That's our job and that's one ghost I'm glad to see finally gone. He better not show up again or I'll personally blow him into a billion spiritual bits."

CeCe sighed, "It worked. There still is one more thing, Sage. We had to make a deal with the ghost."

"What did you give him now, my soul?" she asked looking a bit nervous.

"NO. A book deal. You have to write about it so the world will not forget about the Captain, his problem and especially his children. He left because we told him that the world would remember," explained CeCe.

Sage turned down the side of her lip. "Not exactly New York Times Best seller material, but if I don't I might also find myself on his spiritual hit list."

"You're the local scribe," Cyfer reminded her.

"Fine, fine, fine. Give me the details and we'll take make this guy famous," she complained.

Beth suggested, "And maybe with some fictitious names and places. I don't want Stallions' Gate to turn in to Amityville."

And Al didn't want any more notoriety around his Quantum Leap Project.

"Fine. Whatever. This whole thing took place in Ogden, Utah!" she said hypothetically.

Cyfer broke in, "You can't change everything or you won't be telling his story. That was the deal!"

"Now you're an expert on interdimensional law? So I'm going to write this little book with a ghostly editor looking over my shoulder? Don't I have enough problems with Random House trying to convince them that the things I'm reporting aren't fiction stories like the stuff you write?" she asked looking sad.

"And what's wrong with what I write?" she said half-kidding.

"People know that you're in the fiction business and everyone thinks that I am. Doctor Watson never had these problems!" she said throwing her hands up.

"Doctor Watson was fictional sweetie. That why he DIDN'T have those problems," Cyfer shot back as they all laughed.

CeCe put herself back together again looking like the matron of Vicksburg. "That was quite the experience. I never felt anything as intense before. Not just words, but true raw emotions."

"He was quite determined," said Sage.

"And he crossed space and time somehow," said Cyfer looking over at Al. "And how is that, Albert?"

CeCe looked a bit particular. "When Al and I were sharing thoughts and saw everything."

"Everything?" asked Al as he dropped his cigar.

"Well everything that seemed related to our experience, I saw all of us long ago. Back when I first me Stony," said CeCe drained of emotions.

Cyfer walked up to her. "How so? Our case with the long suffering Colonel Clements?" She looked at Al who turned a shade paler.

"There was this vision of us walking around looking for clues with Stony. My Stony helping out. But it wasn't him. It seemed to be Al and someone else guiding us. Leading us to the right direction until that strange business with the porch when he or rather this guy named Sam saved you and Sue."

Al looked away when she quoted Sam's name.

"And the strange part is I saw two outcomes. One where Cyfer and Sue were saved and another when they died. I was distressed and didn't live long after that. Something about a drug overdose! Weird. Two possibilities!"

"Two futures. Probability and outcome. Right, Al?" asked Sage.

Al said nothing.

"I studied this a bit in some of our cases. Infinite dimensions due to infinite possibilities. And that must have been the intersection of two of the dimensions or possibilities. That's why you saw two different destinies, CeCe," suggested Sage.

Al breathed easier while Sage seemed heading down some different path away from Quantum Leap.

"Forget the math, Einstein. That sounds all like theory. What was the difference in the two destines?" asked Cyfer.

"I thought I explained it. But then I'm not a PhD in physics. I don't even have a four year degree. But I READ a lot. Somehow being saved created the two destinies or possibilities or dimensions. And whoever was there not only saved you, but knew about the problem ahead of time. They were probably from the future having known the outcome."

"Bingo!" went the alarm in Al's head. Sage had gone around Robin Hood's barn and almost reached the truth.

"And why were you in CeCe's vision, Al?" asked Sage.

"Yea, and why did you appear to me in 1961 and 1970, Mr. Calavicci?" asked Cyfer. "Twice is not a coincidence!"

"Actually if it is only twice that would be a coincidence. You need many more data points before you can establish a regularity or pattern," said Sammy Jo.

"We're not measuring temperature here! This was a sighting of the complex character of a human being. And if you were appearing in 1970, then you must have been coming from some other time. You said yourself that you were in prison then. And how did my ghost move across time and space? Mr. Calavicci, what is the truth? You have to tell us!" exclaimed Cyfer who was almost ranting.

"Is sure appears that way," said Chris.

"And you were changing us, helping us, manipulating us from the future? Is that or is not true? And none of your national security bull!" yelled Cyfer.

"I guess you caught me. I can't deny eyewitness accounts, but just between us. Cyfer. This can't go beyond us! I have a friend who did help you out back in 1961!" explained Al.

Sammy Jo looked on, but remained silent.

"And he saved my life?" asked Cyfer.

"Yes," he agreed. "At that time he was Stony Clements. CeCe's husband. We also helped you in 1970. Then he was Sage. We

vanquished your ghost, but he must have heard me and followed me home. This is dangerous business talking to you civilians like this," admitted Al.

"And what business is that?" asked Cyfer.

"Business that helps others. I'll admit your case. Just no more details," said Al. "I can't explain it further!"

"And you run around time changing things?" asked Sage. "As me?!"

"For the better. Changing things for the better. Usually. As other people change so did the future events they were involved in," explained Al.

"Couldn't it also be used for bad things?" asked Chris.

"That's why it's best a secret, Cyfer. You benefited. Chris, well. Chris wouldn't even exist without our intervention," explained Al.

"That would give me a headache just trying to figure out the concept that I never existed," moaned Chris.

"And due too your special gifts and powers that why I had to come to you three. Thank you," said Al.

"You're welcome," replied Cyfer.

"Anytime," replied Sage. "At least I was around without you guys in either reality."

"And you gave me something to wonder about for the rest of my life!" remarked Cyfer. "It still seems almost like a god-like power over all of us."

Sammy Jo finally said, "We've got that covered too. The choices that come to us are not in our hands."

"Life! Do I want to sit around and have life come to me or do I want to experience the same intensity I did here today?" asked CeCe.

"We did worked together well, didn't we CeCe?" asked Sage. "Team Wells!"

"Well sorta. We kind of reconstituted ourselves," said Cyfer.

"You are all quite experienced, my dear Aunts," said Chris. "And Mom too!"

"Yea, I might be interested in doing this again. Though not here. Our work is done here!" said Cyfer.

"Thank God," sighed Beth.

"You want to get back in the game, Mom?" asked Chris.

"Yea, whether I'm nostalgic or bored I think I've renovated that house enough. Got a place in your organization for one old ghost hunter?" she asked curiously.

"Absolutely!" replied Sage.

"And maybe I'll take the advice I gave that ghost and move on also." said CeCe

"To where?" asked Cyfer cutely.

"That was enough of a rush that I could see myself doing it again. And I think my life in Misses Ippi is done without my Stony. I'm getting on in years and maybe I'll spend the rest of them with you guys!" she said hugging them both.

"Looking to move in with me?" asked Cyfer.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll still keep my place in Vicksburg for a rest bit and to see old friends. But you're my family again!" she said. "And I need you all!"

"Always were. Always will be!" replied Cyfer.

"And me?" asked Sage

"Sister of the heart. Sage you're still my oldest and dearest friend," she said hugging her.

"I don't like the sound of the oldest part. But we've really gotten up there haven't we?" asked Sage.

Cyfer pulled the two of them together. "But we'll always have each other and this work will keep us young."

"I'm so glad it worked out!" said Sage

Chris added, "It is going to be great working with all of you!"

"All's well that ends Wells!" quipped Cyfer as the other two sisters moaned.

"Come on! We have to get home. We've got some planning to do," said Cyfer. "This has been quite an experience. Ghost and all that other stuff too."

The Wells girls went out arm-in-arm toward their own future adventures.

Later Beth and Al sat quietly in Donna's guest room and sat before a roaring fire.

"Quite an adventure?" asked Beth.

"Yea, but it would have helped if Sam was here. He's been through more of these hocus pocus scenarios at close range than you and I," sighed Al.

"Chock it up to more life experiences to help him out. Al you've had more of them than most as they pointed out," Beth reminded her husband.

"That's true, but at least the rest of them were in concrete reality. Not some ethereal place in the beyond," complained Al.

"Even Sam's trips have a certain psychic quality to them. He's not just chugging away on a Time Express," suggested Beth.

"Yea, but another thing. Maybe I should look into my past. Never thought much about it," admitted Al. "Give something to pass onto my kids."

"That would be an interesting project," replied Beth.

Al's open comm link quickly replied. "Admiral. I've already traced your real family back six generations."

"SO much for that lunch time project. Thanks Ziggy. I think," hesitated Al.

"You're welcome. Admiral, I have full biographies on all your ancestors. Now care to hear about any of your obsidian ovis canadensis?" asked Ziggy.

"Um, my what?" asked Al still recovering.

Beth thought for a minute. "I think he means the black sheep in your family."

"I believe that is what I said quite clearly," replied Ziggy very indignantly.

"And I always thought I had claimed that title in the Calavicci family," said Al breaking into a new cigar. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get to bed. Everything else tomorrow. But then for TONIGHT!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, Mr. Calavicci!"


End file.
